


Push Me, Pull Me

by indecentpause



Series: Holding Our Hearts in Our Hands [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bedsharing, Bisexual Character, Coming Out, Disabled Character - Aphasia, Eating Disorder - Anorexia, Emotional Baggage, Friends to Lovers, Graphic Sex, HEA, Happily Ever After, Homophobia, Interfaith Relationship, Lemon, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Some f/f and m/f in the background but not enough to be worth tagging, Tags to be added to as I remember them, bisexual awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:49:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 117,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9872309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indecentpause/pseuds/indecentpause
Summary: Justin and Brett are both haplessly wandering through life when they meet each other, and begin haplessly wandering it together. But then Justin falls in love with Brett, and Brett falls in love with Justin, but will they be able to break through their own self-imposed barriers and actually tell each other so? Or will they miss each other and go back to wandering alone?[[COMPLETE]]





	1. Chapter 1

**_March 2006_ **

**Part One**

Justin Gibson never thought he'd be the kind of guy to fall in love with someone who once punched him in the face, but here he was, head over heels in with the guy who had accidentally put his fist in his eye a year ago. It had been an accident, they both knew that, because flying fists and black eyes happen in mosh pits.

However, year-long friendships were not often spawned from them, and those year-long friendships evolving into heavy infatuation and then, eventually, love, were even less common.

Justin had never had the best track record with relationships. He had a history of sleeping around and one-night stands that never led anywhere, from closeted jocks in high school to drunk frat boys at terrible college parties. So he was hesitant to say anything to Brett when he realized exactly how attached and attracted he'd gotten. When Brett mentioned, off-handedly, his girlfriend of three years in high school, well.

Justin wasn't about to say anything after that. Brett knew Justin was gay - some days it seemed everyone in the damn city did - and he didn't care about anyone's sexual orientation, much less a friend's. But even so, in Justin's experience, even the most open-minded straight men got a little uncomfortable when a gay man was interested, even if it was just the awkwardness of an inability to reciprocate.

And Justin was so, so much more than simply interested.

He was in his car in the parking lot of the taco joint where Brett worked. Oh, God, he was like some creepy stalker! Was it possible to stalk one of his best friends who always wanted him around? But Brett had said multiple times in the past that he liked it when Justin came to visit during the slow part of the day, so it only encouraged him to keep coming back. The way Brett smiled when he walked in the door was just something a little extra, special. Justin wasn't clueless enough to think it was for him. Brett was just glad to have a friend to visit. But sometimes, Justin could let himself pretend.

_You are an idiot with a complete disregard for society's boundaries._

He bowed his head and sent up a quick prayer for he wasn't sure what. Self-control? The confidence to keep his walls up? The power to make himself stop being an idiot? _Maybe all of the above,_ he thought. His heart wasn't fully in it, because even though sometimes he still believed in God, after everything the church had done to him growing up, sometimes it was hard to ignore the pestering feeling that he'd just been abandoned by anything involving Christianity altogether. Rather than a plea to a deity he wanted to take control, over the years, Justin's prayers had more accurately become reminders to do the things he needed to do. He needed to break a bad habit? He was jealous over something petty? He was thinking murderous thoughts about his family? He'd pray about it to remind himself what needed to be done, then he'd do it.

For the most part, he tried to just not think about religion at all, because the cognitive dissonance it took to stay involved with an institution that hurt him so badly _hurt his head_.

He sighed and turned to look through the front window beside the door. Even though Justin couldn't see him past the sun's glare, Brett was in there because he'd said he would be when they bumped into each other before class earlier that day.

When Justin had tracked Brett down that first night at the show, he couldn't believe his luck. Brett lived in his city and went to his school and was ridiculously hot _and_ a total sweetheart? And they got along and Brett liked him, too! It was moments like those that made Justin doubt coincidence and think that someone _had_ to be nudging things around down there.

And then they moved past acquaintances and into friendship territory, and Brett was down to earth and funny and kind and perfect. Even his flaws, even his imperfections, they were exactly how they should have been and so made him even more so.

Justin took a deep breath. His hand tightened on the steering wheel and he let it out and loosened his grip at the same time. He locked the car as he left it behind him and headed to the restaurant. As he pocketed his keys and walked through the door, his heart skipped like it always did. He thought he should be used to it by now, but for a brief half-moment, seeing Brett for the first time still made his throat a little tight and his knees a little wobbly before he could right himself and move on.

Brett was the only one in the restaurant, leaning over the counter, his thin, lanky arms outstretched and fingers curled over the opposite end as he gazed blankly out the window opposite the front door. When the door beeped as it closed behind Justin, Brett shot up straight and adjusted his hat, turning toward Justin with a fake, plastic smile. But when he saw it _was_ Justin, his shoulders relaxed and his smile turned honest. He knocked the brim of his hat back onto the top of his head where he liked it rather than where uniform dress code dictated. He grinned.

"Hey, Justin!"

"Hey!" Justin waved once, loosely, hoping his movements didn't look as calculated as they were. Hopefully he looked totally natural, totally normal, just a guy visiting his friend at work. Brett dusted a piece of lint off his shoulder and motioned Justin over with a nod of his head.

"Oh, man, it's been so slow today," Brett sighed. "I'm actually surprised they haven't sent anyone home early. I mean, I'm glad it wasn't me because I need the hours, but still, I'm glad you're here.

"I have a game of Travel Scrabble in my car," Justin joked.

"Yeah, I wish." Brett chuckled, leaning back against the counter again. "If my manager saw me playing games I'd be fired on the spot."

"He'd have to get his ass out of the office first."

Brett gave a noncommittal hum, but didn't disagree. Justin grinned back, batting Brett's hat down in front of his face, because he couldn't brush his friend's messy hair behind his ear like he wanted to. Brett popped it back up again and frowned, but his eyes sparkled.

Even in his hideous polyester uniform, he was gorgeous. His chin length, curly hair, at least seven shades of gold and brown, always fell just right, even when it was fluffy and messy from the heat of the kitchen. He was tall, but a few heads shorter than Justin. Justin had never been much attracted to shorter men before, but Brett was the definition of grace. The way he moved, the way he held himself, even the way his head fell back when he laughed and the way he sometimes stood perfectly still, like a cat. And none of it was calculated like Justin's was. Brett's grace was natural, innate, and he'd probably had it since before he could walk. His attractiveness wasn't typical, but it was completely natural, like he just sprouted out of a meadow one day, the walking personification of beauty, and _oh God Justin you sound like a teenager's shitty poetry journal and you need to stop._ Maybe he needed to punch himself in the head.

If any of his thoughts showed on his face, Brett didn't acknowledge it. He just asked, "Do you work tomorrow morning?"

Justin shook his head. "No. Not Thursday, either. The rest of the week I do, though."

Brett frowned, an almost pout crossing over the pink twist of his mouth. "I hate that you have night classes," he sighed. "It makes it so hard to schedule stuff. I wish things stayed open later around here. Nine p.m. is way too early to start shutting the city down." He paused, hazel eyes darting over Justin's sun-tanned face. The fluorescent light glinted off Brett's golden brown throat when he swallowed, and Justin almost thought he was nervous. But that didn't make sense. Brett Walker didn't get nervous. He was the most confident person Justin had ever known.

"We should –" He paused again. "We should get dinner soon. Tomorrow, maybe? Unless you don't have anything to do tonight. It's been a while. I was thinking Italian food?"

"Not Mexican?" Justin's mouth twisted into a wry smile. He had to work to keep his voice steady, because Brett wasn't asking him on a date, no matter how much he wished otherwise. They were just two friends going out for food.

Brett narrowed his eyes.

"Justin. It might be crappy, fake Mexican food, but I am around that stuff all day. I don't need any more of it."

Justin laughed. Brett's frown broke and he laughed, too.

"D'you want to go to Saporito's or a real restaurant?"

Brett chuckled again and hissed through his teeth, thinking, before he said, "Yeah, it's going to have to be Saporito's. I don't have the money for a real restaurant right now, unfortunately."

Justin gestured vaguely with his shoulders, not sure what he was saying, but his mouth said, "If money's a problem, I could…?"

Brett held up his hand and shook his head. "I appreciate it, but no."

Justin wasn't surprised. They didn't talk about money much, and it was uncomfortable when they did, because Justin had so much more than Brett, even though he'd never flaunt it and Brett new that. Brett had said once, in a moment of late-night vulnerability on the way home from a show at about one a.m., that he didn't like accepting money from other people because it made him feel like he wasn't good enough, like he'd failed at something. He didn't specify what. But Justin didn't think he'd failed at anything at all.

He wanted to take care of Brett. It was a strange thought, because Brett could easily take care of himself, but every now and then, Justin found himself thinking it anyway.

He nodded and shrugged a shoulder, a silent, _Well, if you change your mind_ , but Justin knew better than to offer verbally. It just frustrated everybody and Brett always repeated a firm 'no' anyway. But Justin still felt he should leave the offer open, because it was there, even if Brett didn't want it.

"Well," Justin said, "tonight will be fine with me. I just have class until 7:00 and then I'm done, and since I have tomorrow off and no class until 2:00, a late night is more than okay with me. I don't have any assignments to work on right now and I can't imagine I'd have any more than usual after class."

Brett chuckled a little, watching Justin almost incredulously, and Justin had to fight down an uncomfortable flush, because he knew all he was was ordinary, in every way.

"What?" he murmured.

Brett readjusted his hat and glanced over at the door. The restaurant was still empty and there were no new cars in the parking lot. "I don't know how you handle night classes," he said. "I know you like to work mornings, but… there's just nothing to _do_ around the time you usually get out."

"Well," Justin said, "there's something to do tonight, because we're going to get Italian food."

Brett smiled widely, showing perfect white teeth, and he nodded.

"Awesome," he said. "You can, uh, invite Nate if you want. It's been a while since I've seen him." It was tacked on almost as a necessity. "You don't have to, though?"

The half-question was almost hopeful, like Brett _wanted_ it to just be the two of them, and it made Justin's head ache and made him a little woozy and cramped his stomach because suddenly he was so unsure it was almost _painful_. Suddenly he was his awkward thirteen-year-old self who had no idea how to interact with people or read social cues or even communicate, not the confident nineteen-year-old he was now, who didn't take anything from anyone and always knew how to react to everything. Or, at least, so he liked to tell himself.

"I think he has something going on tonight?" Justin's words were a little hesitant. "Something with his little sister's school. I think she's going to be in come kind of event. His family invited me, but, you know, my old school. Not going back there, thanks."

Brett gave an understanding half-smile and nodded. Justin didn't talk about it much, but he'd told his friend enough. The only reason he didn't get thrown around and beat up on a daily basis was blackmail – he threatened the closeted guys he dated and slept with, many of them jocks, many of them popular and with reputations to uphold. If they looked out for him, he kept them quiet, but if not, they were going right down with him. Looking back on it, he now realized how horrible it was, but it was what he'd had to do to keep himself safe.

Small-town Arizona wasn't a great place to grow up, but now he was out and in Tempe. It wasn't perfect, but it was better, and even though sometimes he had trouble because he'd never been closet-friendly, most people left him alone.

Most people had been like Brett, whose reaction when Justin came out was simply, "Oh, okay. Thanks for telling me. So you and Nate are still coming to that show next weekend, right?" That had been it. No questions, no awkwardness. He still was who he was and their friendship was completely the same. It had made the nervous stuttering and hand-wringing of the conversation completely anti-climactic.

Except the part Justin was keeping secret. The part about being absolutely, completely, insanely in love with one of his best friends. Justin wanted to tell him, and when he wasn't being overdramatic with himself, he thought that even if he did, things wouldn't change _that_ much, but why should he bother? It was impossible. Brett was straight. Why put the stress on him? Why potentially make him feel guilty for not reciprocating? Just like Justin couldn't make himself not love Brett, Brett couldn't make himself love him.

 _It's better to keep your mouth shut_.

"Okay," Brett said. "So, just us two? I can come pick you up around… 7:30? 8:00?"

Justin raised an eyebrow. Brett shrugged one shoulder and his smile turned a little unsure.

"I just thought, you're on my way, we could save on gas, you know, carpool and help the environment."

Justin's other eyebrow pulled up to join the first and he nodded. "Yeah, sure. Let's make it 8:00? That's more than enough time for me to get home and change and stuff."

Brett grinned, wide and bright and perfectly symmetrical, and as he tucked a stray curl behind his ear, he said, "Awesome. I'll see you then."

"Yeah." And even though Justin wanted to stay, the conversation was over now, and he didn't want to drag it out. Brett probably had other things to do, anyway, even if it was just menial cleaning tasks.

He offered Brett another nod and held out his hand. Brett grabbed it and they pulled each other into an awkward hug over the counter. _I wish I could hug him for real,_ Justin thought, with their arms wrapped around each other and tight against each other's chests, but, _heterosexual male boundaries_. Justin didn't think it would bother Brett, but he didn't know about everyone else, and as much as he liked to pretend he didn't care, he _did_ worry sometimes.

"Have a good shift," he said. "Hope it picks up soon."

Brett glanced down at his watch and shrugged. "In about a half hour people will start coming back in. They always do."

Justin stuck his hands in his pockets and took a step back. "Well, I've got to get to class and I'd really like to grab something to eat first." He nodded at the board above and behind Brett's head. "And your menu isn't exactly vegan friendly."

Brett laughed brightly. "Yeah, I know." He nodded. "I wouldn't expect you to actually buy food here." Justin grinned and shrugged his shoulders, abdicating all responsibility in the situation. If they had vegan food, he'd eat there all the time. _Well, at least when Brett works, anyway_.

"So, I guess I'll stop bugging you and let you get back to work," Justin finally said. He took another step backward but didn't yet turn toward the door.

Brett shook his head. His smile was bright, so honest and genuine, when he said, "You don't bug me, Justin. I like it when you come to visit. But if you've got to go, I'll see you later. Around 8:00, okay?"

Justin nodded and half-smiled. With a bounce in his step as he turned toward the door, he headed off to grab some food before heading to German and psychology 101. Even though he hadn't slept in over twenty hours, he was still wide awake and counting down the minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

Brett Walker did not understand or like the things his head and heart were doing to him.

At least, he didn't like the fact that he _did_ like it.

What he _really_ didn't like was the fact that he was pretty sure he liked one of his best male friends. Like, _like_ like. Ugh, he should have been above thoughts like this. He was almost twenty-three! But something about Justin not only made him weak in the knees, it made him weak in the head. It made him temporarily clueless and stupid. It was too much like how he felt when he had his first crush – wobbly and jittery and unsure but so excited every time Justin walked in the room, but it couldn't be a crush, could it? Because… Justin was a man, and so was he, and Brett was straight.

He thought he'd been at one point, anyway. He'd never been interested in another man until now, and he truthfully wasn't even sure if that was what was happening because he had no frame of reference. _And that's not how sexuality works, is it?_ It was just something people _knew_ , and it shouldn't change suddenly when an attractive guy bumped into him (or, rather, Brett accidentally slammed into him).

Should it?

_Oh man oh man you definitely just thought the word attractive while also thinking directly about Justin Gibson._ Justin was one of his best friends. Maybe his number one. This was not good.

Was it bad? No, it wasn't that, either. It was just very, very confusing.

It was confusing and Brett didn't know what to do or what to say or who to say it to, so for the past couple of weeks his brain had been doing this, he'd kept it close to his chest and hadn't shared with anyone, because he didn't even really know what 'It' _was_.

And then, like a miracle, like someone was answering a prayer he didn't know he was making, a car pulled into the drive through and he had something to do to get his mind off of things. He pulled on the headset and took their order, punching it into the register and calling it back to the cooks on duty. Cass called back an affirmative and they were ready to go, so he gave them their total. Nobody else was in line, so he pulled off the headset again and opened the cash window. Three young women, maybe his age, were in the car, and the one in the passenger's seat was staring at him in a predatory way that made his palms sweat and knees tight.

But he smiled, counted their change, and told them their food would be ready in a moment. He closed the window, despite the almost protest of the woman who was staring at him.

People told Brett he was attractive, but he didn't really believe it. He had nice hair when it behaved and his eyes were pretty, he could admit, but his nose was a little too big and his face a little too round and he didn't have any muscle definition, because he was out of shape. When he'd been more active in musical theatre, the dancing had been his main source of exercise, but starting college three years ago meant he had to get serious and somehow he'd stumbled into pre-med. And without that to keep him in shape he'd turned into… what he was now. Not ugly. _But not attractive, either._

Cass's high, reedy voice broke Brett out of his thoughts as she slid the bag of food over the counter in his direction and called, "Food's up, sir!"

"Thanks ma'am!" he called back. He leaned over just far enough to see her shoot him a thumbs up before he pulled back to hand the food through the window.

He slid the window back open, about to thank the customers for coming through, but before he could speak the woman in the passenger's seat said, "Hey, sorry if this is rude, but I think you're really hot. Can I have your phone number?"

Brett blushed all the way down to his feet and murmured, "Sorry, that's sweet, but I'm engaged." _You are such a liar_! But he didn't know how else to turn her down without hurting her feelings. "Uh, here's your food. Have a nice day." The woman in the driver's seat took the bag and smiled, almost apologetically, and thanked him before turning back to her friend and muttering, "See, I told you he was too cute to be single!"

He abruptly closed the window before he could hear anything else. Why did so many people say things like that about him? Were they seeing something he didn't? _They're probably just projecting things that aren't really there_. He nearly stumbled over Cass, suddenly standing right in front of him. Her long, blonde hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail and tucked under her hat and she was at least a foot shorter than him, looking up with troublesome, sparkling blue eyes.

"You are such a liar," she grinned. Brett knew that grin. It told him _exactly_ where this was going. "You didn't give her your number because you want _Justin_ to call you, am I right?"

Brett groaned and grit his teeth. Not in anger. The situation was just _stressful_.

"Cass, there's nothing going on," he insisted. And it was true, at least, romantically. Even though there was a lot going on in his head.

She rolled her eyes and sighed, propping her fists on her hips, tongs still sticking out of one hand at a sharp angle. "Oh my God, Brett, he is so into you! How do you _still_ not see it? Okay, maybe I can buy you not being into him, too – _maybe_ , you liar – but not even being minutely aware that he wants you? Brett, are you –"

He held up one hand. " _Stop_." His voice wavered too much in that single word, but she still quieted. "We're just… we're just friends, okay? I don't understand this… fixation you have, but we're _just friends_. There's nothing going on. Early afternoons are just really boring for both of us so he stops by every now and then. Okay? There's nothing going on, there are no undertones, and he doesn't mean anything by it."

He didn't believe it, and he could tell by the way her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed that she didn't, either.

"Nothing going on," she mocked. "Brett, why do you think he'd come in every day, but only on the days you work and only when you're on shift? I've never seen him here when you're not. Honestly, I'm pretty sure that most of the kitchen staff thinks that you actually _are_ dating. He _never even eats anything here_."

"He's a vegan," Brett retorted. "What _would_ he eat? I'm only a vegetarian and _I_ don't even have options here."

She threw her hands up and shouted at the sky, "And yet he keeps coming in, day after day? But _why_?" She dropped her hands back to her hips and gave Brett a pointed look. Despite the stress and fear and nervousness the situation brought on, Brett chuckled, because Cass was a master at pointing out absurdity.

She smiled, bright and big, like everything else about her gestures and personality. "Come on," she said. "He's totally flirting with you."

"Don't you have a grill to clean or something?" Brett snorted. He smacked her arm with the towel tucked into his belt. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, but turned around and sauntered back to the kitchen anyway, singing under her breath.

Reggie was the only other person in the back, and even though both of them spoke English, little snippets of Spanish occasionally floated toward the front for Brett to hear. They were probably talking about him. Why did he take French in high school? Useless!

Brett sighed and idly wiped the already clean counter down. He considered pulling out the broom and sweeping the dining room, but nobody but Justin had been in since the last time they'd cleaned it, and even if he had eaten something, he was so clean it would be unnecessary, anyway. If he spilled something he'd probably even clean it up himself, whether Brett was working the counter or not. If he came in when Brett wasn't there, which he didn't, because Justin only came into visit _him_.

It was nice. Justin wasn't interested in Brett in the way Cass thought, and Brett was grateful, because that would mean that his feelings, whatever they were, could lead to something, and that was too terrifying to think about. Justin was his friend and he liked it that way. Friendship was safe. Friendship was easy. Friendship held no confusing undertones or extra ways to get hurt. Brett didn't _want_ anything to change.

But sometimes he wondered what it would be like if Justin really hugged him, not the one-armed over the shoulder half-hugs they always shared but a _real_ one, arms tight around each other, his face buried in Justin's shoulder, pressed tight together _oh no. Oh no. This is bad._

Men didn't think that way about men unless there was romantic attachment involved. _Oh man oh man this really_ _ **is**_ _a crush, isn't it?_

But it didn't make _sense_. People didn't just spontaneously _turn_ bisexual. If he had been attracted to men it would have happened already at some point, right? And it wasn't even as if Justin reminded him of a woman he once liked because his friend wasn't remotely feminine. His arms were so toned and the one time Brett saw him with his shirt off at a show he saw that his friend had a torso to match and even though he kept it cropped close to his skin he had a beard and his voice was one of the deepest Brett had ever heard. But it was always light and pleasant, there was always a laugh in it to match that lopsided smile, the one that pulled up at the left corner of his mouth just a little more than the right. The one that made Brett's breath just barely catch when it was aimed at him.

_Oh no._

_Oh no._

Brett definitely, definitely had a crush on Justin Gibson.

He didn't like cursing, but sometimes it was appropriate.

_Shit_.

His shift ended at 6:00, and as he made his way past the time clock and toward the employee exit, Cass whacked him across the back with her cleaning rag. Brett looked over his shoulder as she sing-songed, "Have fun on your da~ate!"

"You were _eavesdropping_ on us?"

A knowing smile stretched across her face. Brett's eyes widened and he stammered, "I mean, it's not a date. It's just dinner. We've done this hundreds of times before. This time is no different."

Cass raised an eyebrow and smiled a little wider. "Well, maybe one of these days, am I right?"

Brett shook his head, but smiled back, and she began to sing again as he walked out the door.

...

When Brett arrived home, the first thing he did was strip out of that horrible polyester shirt. The ugliness didn't bother him much, but it was itchy and hot and stiff and uncomfortable in every way a shirt could be. He draped it over the corner of the bed that doubled as a couch, because he lived in a tiny studio. A bigger space would have been nice, but it wasn't bad. He had his own space and he could keep it how he wanted it. It was small, but neat, with books everywhere and a decent computer. Even though the kitchen was tiny, he had a microwave and a burner.

Before sitting down at his computer, he stopped by the saltwater fish tank on top of his lowest bookshelf to feed his three angelfish: Joseph, Conrad, and Macavity.

He loved theatre, generally, but musicals had always been his favorite. He knew secretly everyone wanted nothing more than the chance to break out into spontaneous, choreographed song and dance while doing something ordinary like getting their hair cut or boarding a bus.

Or maybe that was just him?

If it were possible, he would have continued when he'd started college, but that was when he was supposed to start getting serious, right? Even with his scholarships, he was going to have some massive debt to pay off, and being an adult was more expensive than it had seemed upon his high school graduation. He and his dad had never had much money, and he didn't want his father to have to worry. Brett didn't know how he decided on pre-med, and then medical school – that was, what, six, eight years of schooling? Minimum? But at least he would be able to pay for it when he was done. At least he wouldn't have a dead-end job waiting tables at a restaurant while he struggled to find real work.

He stopped thinking. For a while, he watched his fish swim around their tank, the blues and whites, the little green and pink pebbles on the bottom. He couldn't let himself continue, because he knew where he'd end up. He always did.

He'd still be poor, but at least he'd be happy.

He turned away and went to the bathroom to take a quick shower and wash the day's grime off.

For the first five minutes he stood motionless, head titled down, letting the hot water pound against his shoulders and the back of his neck. His job wasn't exciting or glamorous or even impressive, but it was _tough_ , and every muscle and bone in his body always hurt when he got home. His feet and knees ached as if he'd run a marathon untrained and his head pounded from the tension in his shoulders. He and Cass often joked their after work snack was a cup of water and a handful of aspirin. The hours were long and the breaks were short and the pay was low. Even the good days, like today, with no nasty customers or unexpected troubles, weren't _good_. They just weren't bad. But nobody else had responded to any of his resumes or applications. He was stuck.

He breathed the steam in deep and slow, letting the tension out in one long, even breath, then grabbed his shampoo and began his shower in earnest.

Once he was out and his hair was dry and brushed, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a striped Henley shirt, because it wasn't cold enough for a hoodie anymore but it was still a little too chilly for short sleeves. He didn't bother with socks because, when he wasn't at work, he wore flip-flops year round. There were good and bad things about Arizona, but even though it was so minor, that was definitely one of his favorites. He _really hated socks_.

He yawned into the side of his fist as he woke his computer up and logged into his email. The clock in the corner of the screen read 7:20. He had about ten minutes.

There were a few unimportant emails from different mailing lists he was on, but that was it. Nothing from Darcey. Brett's mouth twisted with nerves. His cousin was stationed in Louisiana, but his contract with the Army was supposed to be up soon. They were just waiting on the word for when he could come home.

He obviously hadn't gotten it yet. Brett knew he'd be the second to know, right after his aunt Jess, Darcey's mom.

Brett started to open a new email, but hesitated. Maybe he should wait and call instead? Before he had the chance to decide, another email popped up in his inbox. It was from Annie! She was the only person from high school he'd kept in touch with, his ex-girlfriend of three years. It wasn't a bad or even a messy breakup: she moved with her family just before senior year and they didn't want to do long distance.

She'd dated since then. Brett hadn't. Not out of loyalty, or lingering love, or any interest in rekindling a relationship; he had just been busy and uninterested in everyone.

_Except Justin_.

_No shut up_.

He opened the email.

> _Hi Brett! =)_
> 
> _This is going to be a kind of short email because I'm in a rush to get too an interview, because the bookstore is closing soon and I need a new job! I don't no when its closing because the owner hasn't told me because he doesn't know either. I guess its whenever we sell all the stock, and then were done. =( I'm really going to miss it. I just wanted to let you know I got your email last week and that I haven't bin ignoring you, I've just bin really busy!_
> 
> _Things are going really well with Andy. I think he's plotting something though, because he told me to ware something nice tomorrow because he wanted to take me somewhere special! I don't know why exactly because our to year anniversary won't be until necks month, and neither of us has a birthday this month and there are no holidays in March. I guess I just have too wait and find out but I hope its good news!_
> 
> _And how is you're love life going? Have you met anyone yet? Hehe, you probably think I'm so annoying asking you this every other email! =P_
> 
> _Have a good day!_
> 
> _Love Annie. :3_

Brett smiled at the familiar misspellings and overuse of exclamation points, then typed up a quick response.

> _Hey Annie!_
> 
> _I hope your interview goes well and I hope the bookstore doesn't close before you can find another job. I know you mentioned a few times in the past that it might close because of the lack of business. It's too bad it's finally happened. =/_
> 
> _I'm still working at Burrito Joint and it feels like I probably will for the rest of my life. Augh, that's too awful to even think about! I've been looking around but haven't had much time to really hit the pavement and make any progress. I like pretty much everyone I work with (except management, but hey, what minimum wage worker ever has good management) and I do have Cass there, even if she is a little crazy. But I don't get paid nearly enough._
> 
> _It's great that things are going so well with Andy. I'm sure that whatever it is, it's going to be good, especially if he said he's going to take you somewhere special. Tell him I said hello the next time you see him._
> 
> _I need to ask your opinion on something. I have a friend who keeps coming in to visit me at work and Cass is insistent that we try to get together in a relationship. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that, though. Cass says that they really like me (I mean, they're vegan and they come to visit me at work_ – _a lot_ – _even though they never eat anything because there's nothing there for vegans to eat) but I'm not entirely sure how I feel about trying anything. Dating has been really rough on me since you moved. It's not because we broke up, but just, life, you know? Life keeps happening and romance isn't exactly a priority. I mean, I do still love you but not romantically, and that's not it, just, I guess everything sort of lined up to happen in that order. I don't even know what I'm saying right now. I'll have to think about the situation more so I can write about it more coherently in my next email. =/_
> 
> _Well, I have to go. My friend (the one Cass is trying to get me together with) and I are going to go get something to eat so I have to go pick them up._
> 
> _Love, Brett_

...

In the car, Brett switched out the Boris the Sprinkler tape he'd been playing on his way home for a mix tape that he'd made a while back. He was saving up to install a CD player, but every time he got close, something more urgent came up – he needed to see the doctor, he had to replace a flat tire, there was no food in the fridge – so he'd been saving for a year with no progress. But at least he had a car that ran, even if it was old and junky, and he did his best to take care of it. That was one of the few things he absolutely could never afford to replace.

He quizzed himself for the organic chemistry test he would have in two days, lips moving silently as he thought, eyes darting around the dark roads. Justin lived on the edge of the suburbs with his best friend Nate, about thirty minutes away, but since traffic was mostly clear, it only took him twenty.

When Brett first met them, he'd had suspicions the two might be dating, even before Justin came out to him, because they were so close. But it had never crossed either of their minds, even though it had seemed to cross everybody else's, and Nate was straight. Like Brett had been.  _Like I am._

The house they lived in was beautiful. They'd bought it broken down and junky and taken a year off school to rebuild and renovate. Brett had met them when they were halfway through, and although he didn't know much about construction, he had some history with set design, so he knew a thing or two about color palettes and positive and negative space. Near the end he'd helped with the interior designing. Even though it wasn't his, a sense of pride swelled in his chest every time he stepped inside, because he helped make it and they loved it and hadn't changed it.

They'd offered him the third bedroom, and if he hadn't been in his apartment at the time, he would have taken them up on it immediately. But he was stuck there for another seven months and couldn't afford to break the lease.

He parked on the street and knocked on the door three times, then rang the bell once. Nate answered.

Brett had been a little intimidated when they'd first met. Nate was tall, just shy of seven feet, which Brett hadn't realized was even possible until he'd met his now-friend. Nate's head was shaved and he had a tattoo on the back of his neck, and his face was full of piercings and his left arm was covered wrist to shoulder in more tattoos, but it took less than ten minutes for Brett to get past that and see that Nate was one of the kindest, most caring people he'd ever known. Nate's skin was almost the same sand-gold as Brett's, but a few shades darker. His dad was half-Black, half-Mexican, and his mom was white, Brett had later found out.

Nate waved and pulled Brett into a quick, one-armed hug. He stepped back and gestured Brett in, raising an eyebrow in question.

Brett smiled and held up his hand, his right wedged firmly in his pocket. "No thanks. Just came to pick up Justin. He probably told you, we're going for dinner?"

Nate nodded and pulled his tablet out of his messenger bag. He hadn't been able to speak in all the time Brett knew him. Apparently, he'd been able to when he was younger, but he was in an accident of some kind in high school. He was vague about it. The only detail he ever went into was that he'd hit his head. At least he could still hear.

Nate's fingers flew over the tablet and he turned it around so Brett could see. _Yeah, he did._ He looked over his shoulder and back at Brett. He held up two fingers, then three, then waggled his hand. _He'll be out in two, three minutes._

"Was that the door? I'll be right out!" Justin called. Nate turned back to Brett and nodded toward Justin's room with a shrug.

"Do you want to come with us?" Brett asked. Nate shook his head.

_I was actually just on my way out_ , he typed. _My sister's got a concert at her school and I'm running late. You okay to hang here if I just skip?_

Brett laughed. "That's fine. Go ahead."

Nate grinned and slapped Brett's shoulder as he walked past. Brett stepped inside, about to close the door behind him when Justin appeared from around the corner.

"Hey," he said. "You're early."

"Traffic was good."

Justin smiled, and oh, it was _that_ smile, and that warm, tingly feeling was back in Brett's chest again, seeping down into his stomach and shooting straight into his palms, leaving them warm and uncomfortably damp. No, _no_ , he wasn't supposed to feel this way just because Justin smiled at him, he wasn't supposed to wonder if his friend only smiled like that when he was around, he wasn't supposed to hope that it was just for him. Their eyes locked for a half-second that stretched into forever, Justin's dark, soft, expressive brown, Brett's bright, sharp, nervous hazel. Justin's gaze flicked to Brett's shoulder.

"So, you ready?" Brett asked.

Justin smiled. "Yeah. Let's get going."


	3. Chapter 3

The drive from the house to the restaurant was only ten minutes, which was a little too long because Justin was starving, but not long enough because there was something about the conversations he and Brett had in the front seat of a car that was more candid and… special. It wasn't that either of them lied (well, Justin _rarely_ lied), but in the small, closed up space of his Honda or Brett's Toyota, it was easier to be open. It was where all their secrets had tended to come out over the past year. Except the big one.

This time, Brett was the one who talked. Justin hadn't said much, but he didn't want to, either, because Brett was an incredible storyteller. His perfect timing and pacing must have come from all those years in theatre.

"So _then_ ," Brett continued, "Jonny gets this great idea: it's the last day of finals, summer break starts tomorrow, let's drive to Los Angeles and go to the beach! And I'm like, dude, no, not happening. _You're drunk_. I wasn't legal yet, but I wasn't about to drive my stupid drunk friend to LA. That's, what, a six, seven hour drive one way?" He laughed, one hand on the wheel, the other gesturing with his words. If someone cut off his hands, he wouldn't be able to say half as much.

"I sense it didn't end up that way?" A half-grin tugged at Justin's mouth. Brett laughed and shook his head.

"Not quite," he grinned. "So, I'm here, trying to be the voice of reason, saying, 'Jonny, man, just let me take you home, you can go to sleep, and maybe we can start planning a road trip tomorrow.' But Frank is having _none of it_. He can see how annoyed I'm getting, and even though we were friends, one of his hobbies was finding ways to drive me crazy. So he says, 'Guys, _I'll drive_.' And he hasn't been drinking so I can't take away his keys, and honestly I probably could have just let them go, but Jonny was drunk, and Frank was… okay, Frank was a great guy and he'd always be the first person to help you out of a tough spot, but he was _dumb._ His whole college career was basically one terrible decision after another. I wasn't about to let them go to California on their own, so I get in the car with them."

Brett's voice slowly got louder and he tried to hold back a laugh so he didn't ruin his monologue, but Justin had no such reservations. His hand was curled by his mouth with the pretense of being polite, but his laughter was anything but, loud and completely undignified.

"And this guy had just graduated magna cum laude and had been accepted to _Harvard Law_." Brett's hand flew a little too high and knocked against the vanity mirror. He righted it again, then lowered his hand back to the steering wheel. "But he gets the slightest amount of alcohol in him and suddenly he's just the personification of stupid. Anyway, we all get in the car, and by this time I'm exhausted, so they put me in the backseat and after about an hour of highway I end up dozing off, even though it's only maybe four or five p.m., and when I wake up, some guy I've never seen before is sitting next to me, smoking a joint and singing along with the radio while Jonny repeatedly tells him to shut up because he's got a hangover." He finished as they pulled into the parking lot, then into a space. As he put the car into park, his features softened and his mouth relaxed, and when he spoke again it was quiet, gentle. Reflective.

"But I've got to admit, the sun rising over the ocean was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Even now, almost two years later." He turned to Justin with a soft smile that just barely showed his teeth, his hazel eyes shining, like he was sharing a secret just between the two of them. Justin's laughter calmed and he smiled back.

_If I could kiss you right now, everything would be perfect._

They watched each other quietly for a moment longer, then Brett's eyes darted back to the steering wheel and the pulled the keys out of the ignition. Justin looked away as Brett cleared his throat and they both stepped out of the car.

The parking lot was swarmed with cars and people, like usual this time of night. They wove their way through to the sidewalk where Justin opened the door and gestured Brett through. He laughed and feigned the tip of a hat. Justin grinned, following him into the line.

"So, how are they doing now?" Justin asked. Brett looked at him quizzically.

"What?"

"Your old friends. How are they now? You haven't talked about them much before now."

Brett's eyes dropped to the ground. "I don't know," he said. Justin could barely hear him over the bustle of the restaurant. "I lost track of them both last year. I kept in touch with them for a while, but… eventually we just…" He looked up at Justin and shrugged. "It happens, I guess. Last I talked to him, Jonny was still at Harvard doing pretty good for himself, and Frank dropped out of school and moved to Maine with his boyfriend and another friend of theirs and dropped off the face of the earth. I like to think they're both happy." His face changed for a moment, then it disappeared and he smiled again, but it was almost sad. "That's the important thing, right?"

Justin hesitated, unsure whether he should ask. Was this the right time and place? Even though the change was quick and subtle, it worried him.

"Is everything okay?" He dropped his voice as low as he could.

Brett opened his mouth, but the woman in front of them stepped aside and it was their turn at the counter. _I'll ask later_. When they were eating, or back out at the car again. There was time. Brett motioned toward the counter and said, "Go ahead."

Justin's eyes lingered on his face for a half-moment more before he looked up at the menu and reached for his wallet, but he only got it out halfway before Brett gently pressed his fingers into his wrist and pushed it away. Suddenly the back of Justin's neck was hotter than a mid-July afternoon and his mouth was just as dry. His fingers tightened and he looked over. Brett's hands were so _soft_ , his fingers completely smooth, not like Justin's, rough and callused from years of playing the guitar. He wanted to feel them curled around his hand.

Brett smiled and shook his head as his fingers dropped away. "No, I've got it."

"Are you sure?" Justin tried not to let his concern show, because he knew Brett would take offense. But even though this restaurant wasn't expensive, Justin could easily get his own meal, and money was tight for Brett right now.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he said. He smiled, teeth just barely pressed into his bottom lip. _It shouldn't be possible for someone to be so gorgeous without even trying_. "I invited you, remember? So I should pay. You can get it next time if you want."

Justin's head shot back to the man behind the counter when the man behind them sighed and grumbled a frustrated, "Hurry _up_." The cashier's smile was tense and forced, and it was clear he was biting back some kind of comment that would probably be annoying at best, or maybe even offensive, but what –

The movement of his eyes darting down to Brett's hand was so quick Justin almost missed it. _Oh, awesome. We got the homophobic cashier._ He bit the inside of his cheek to keep his tongue still, because he liked this place and didn't want to cause a scene and get kicked out. He quickly placed his order, specifying, "No cheese on top, please," and as he turned back to Brett he caught the cashier rolling his eyes.

_It's not worth it. Pick your battles._

Brett raised an eyebrow and Justin just slightly shook his head, barely lifting his hand as if to silently say, _Not now._ Brett glanced from him to the cashier and back again, but didn't push. He placed his order, they got their plastic table number, and Justin ducked out of the line as Brett paid.

There weren't many empty tables, so when Justin spotted one, he grabbed Brett's wrist without thinking and wove their way through the tables, people, and chairs.

After a dozen murmured, 'Excuse me's, they finally managed to push through to the table they spotted and Justin let go of Brett's wrist as they took their seats. Brett smiled, the kind of cheerful smile that made everyone swoon and gay women and straight men reconsider their sexual orientations and made the back of Justin's neck heat up, because even though Brett had such a great smile, _that_ one, specifically, Justin had only seen aimed toward him. It was small and maybe insignificant, but he had one little thing that was just his, and oh, he _cherished_ it.

"Maybe this wasn't the best idea," Brett laughed, glancing around the busy dining room. "Next time you're just coming over to my place for whatever's on sale at the grocery store that week."

"Or you could come over to mine and I could cook something up," Justin offered. "I picked up a few cookbooks over winter break and even though it was a little disastrous at first, I'm pretty confident saying I can handle myself in the kitchen, now."

Brett smiled and ducked his head, embarrassed. For a moment, Justin could swear his face was pink, but it was his overly hopeful mind projecting because when Brett looked back up, it wasn't there.

The kitchen was backed up with orders so it took some time for their food to get out. They'd been waiting about ten minutes when Brett finally gestured toward the front and said, "So what was that about up there? What did I miss? Because I clearly missed something."

Justin bit the inside of his lip as he tried to figure out what to say. He wasn't _affirming_ it, right? He was just telling Brett what the cashier thought?

"The, uh." He hated how easily Brett could throw his confidence! Even just by looking at him, Brett could make him second-guess everything he thought about himself. "The cashier thought we were dating. Closet homophobe who couldn't insult us because he was on the clock. That's what those looks were about. He saw you touch my wrist."

Brett's brow furrowed. Justin swallowed hard.

"I like it here and I know you do, too," he said. "I didn't want to cause a scene." He shrugged, suddenly having to concentrate hard on speaking at a normal speed. "It happens."

Brett frowned and his brows drew closer together. "Jeez," he said. "What an asshole."

Justin coughed out a laugh. Brett swore so rarely; it was almost comical when he did. "I mean, even if we _were_ dating, who cares? None of anybody else's business." His voice was barely trembling, but nothing on his face betrayed any unsureness or nervousness. _I must be imagining it._

Maybe Justin could tell him how he felt. Maybe Brett wouldn't freak out. But he was straight, and Justin knew that, so what was the point if he couldn't reciprocate? It was just too messy and left too many openings for hurt feelings and broken hearts.

Justin was jerked out of his thoughts when a plate of pasta clinked down in front of him. He looked up at the waitress with a smile and a thank you. She grabbed the number and smiled back with a quick, "Welcome, enjoy it," before rushing back toward the front.

Then, Brett was talking again, and Justin tuned back in just in time to hear, "… say something?"

"What?"

He paused, a forkful of food halfway to his mouth. "Do you want me to say something?"

Justin frowned, confused.

"About that cashier guy," Brett explained. He put his fork back on his plate. "Do you want me to say something? Because that's not okay."

Justin shook his head and took a bite of his own food. "Nah," he said. "Since he didn't say anything out loud, what could you do? Best we can do is complain that he was rude. People always take the straight person's side. I'd just be accused of taking things too personally and twisting them out of context."

Brett's frown deepened and he opened his mouth to protest, but Justin held up his hand to quiet him.

"That's how it is, Brett. It's bullshit, but it's fact. That's why picking my battles is so important. This time? It's not worth the trouble. If he'd actually made a comment, maybe. But he didn't. Let it go."

Brett let out an annoyed huff of breath and grumbled, "I just don't like it when people think bad things about you." But he didn't press any further. Justin chuckled, because people thought bad things about him all the time, everyone from his family to his one-night stands. He didn't say so. He didn't want to upset Brett any further.

"There are people like that everywhere," he said. "If I got pissed off every time it happened I'd never stop being angry."

He popped another bite of pasta into his mouth, signaling that the conversation was over. So Brett moved on, and between bites, asked,

"So, how's school? You figure out a major, yet?"

Justin shook his head. "Not even close. Which is bad, because I'm supposed to declare one by the end of the year. If I don't have one going in next year they've threatened not to let me continue."

Brett grimaced and hissed softly. "That sucks."

"Yeah." Justin's eyes darted over his friend and he said, "I'm really jealous of you, honestly. You always seem to know exactly what you're doing and you have no problem getting your shit together."

Brett snorted and shook his head. "I'm not even remotely _close_ to having my act together, Justin," he murmured. "And anyone who says they do is lying through their _teeth_."

When Justin raised an eyebrow in question, Brett sighed. "Justin, I hate my job, I hate my major, I hate my classes. Pretty much everything I'm supposed to be doing right now sucks. The only parts about my current situation that I really like are the frivolous things, like Skyping with Darcey and going out to dinner with you and screwing around with Cass at work. That's far from having my act together."

"I know you hate your job, and I don't blame you." Justin's words were slow, careful. "But… I thought you were doing well in school?"

"I am." Brett sighed and curled his hand over his cheek, leaning against the table. "My grades are great. I could probably get into almost any program I want at the end of senior year. I'll have no trouble lining up internships and residencies." He looked down at the table, almost embarrassed. "That's why I feel like such a jerk when I say I hate it so much. I have everything my classmates would kill for and I _don't even want it._ And I'm going to be a terrible doctor if my heart's not in it. I've had terrible doctors. I don't want to be that guy to anyone else."

Justin put his fork down and moved his plate a little further onto the table so he could prop his elbows on the edge and lean closer. "Is this one of those 'Shit, I'm graduating, what the fuck am I doing with my life?' things, or have you always felt this way?"

"I don't know," Brett murmured. "Both, I guess. I just ended up here because it seemed like it would be better than business or law and I'm not good enough at math for accounting. At least I'll be helping people when I'm done, right?"

"Yeah, but what about you?" When Brett looked up, Justin saw something in his eyes that he wished he didn't recognize, but saw in himself every time he looked in the mirror. Brett was unsure, afraid, vulnerable, and there was nothing Justin could do to change it. It killed him.

Brett gave a sad, half-smile. "There is no 'me,' here, Justin. My dad's counting on me. We've been struggling since I was six and my mom skipped out and I… I'm the one who can change that. Darcey's changing it for his family. I'm changing it for mine. This is an 'us' thing. You wouldn't –" But then his mouth snapped closed and he looked down, but Justin knew what he was going to say. That he wouldn't understand, because he'd never had to worry about money.

"Well." He paused for a lot longer than was comfortable. "I don't know, Brett. The only thing I know is being an adult sucks sometimes and sometimes you have to make really hard, shitty decisions where there might not even be a right answer. Life is just kind of one big fucking grey area. I wish they told us that while we were growing up." He didn't know if he was saying the right thing. Comforting wasn't his strong suit. He just wanted Brett to be happy. Part of being happy was not being in crippling debt upon graduation because he couldn't find a job, but the job that kept him afloat could turn out just a bad as the alternative.

The sadness left Brett's smile and he looked back up again. "Just keep coming out to dinner with me a couple times a month and I'll be okay."

Justin smiled back and nodded. He stuck another bite into his mouth because he knew if he didn't, he'd say something he regretted. Something that came much too close to _of course. I love you._

Eventually, the other customers started to filter out. Justin and Brett continued to talk, relaxed and languid as they slowly finished their food together. Finally the conversation turned to lighter things, stupid jokes they'd heard recently and funny things that had happened to them at work, stories of dumb customers and awesome coworkers that made getting through the day more manageable. But soon, they were the only two left among the workers, who had started wiping down tables and picking up chairs, so they quickly finished their food and trashed their plastic containers on the way out.

Justin grinned at the cashier as they left and called out, as pleasantly as he'd ever said anything, "Have a good night, babe!"

Brett doubled over in laughter before the door even closed behind them, and Justin barely caught the look of horror on the man's face before it blocked him out.

"Oh, man, that was _perfect_ ," Brett wheezed. His whole body shook with laughter, tears of mirth shining on his eyelashes, shimmering under the bright yellow streetlights. Justin grinned, not quite laughing, but pleased. Brett straightened himself up as they approached the car and he let them in. "You didn't tell me you were planning on that."

"I wasn't," Justin admitted. He rubbed at his nose as he pulled his seatbelt on and Brett sat beside him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text out to Nate:

_you eat dinner while you were out or do you need me to bring something back?_

"I hate pet names," he continued. He stuck his phone back in his pocket. It vibrated once, but he left it for the moment. "I think they're demeaning. But you can't flirt with homophobes without pet names."

Brett chuckled and shook his head as he started up the car. He murmured something Justin couldn't quite hear.

"What?"

Brett shook his head again, looking over at the clock on the dashboard, even though they both knew it was about 10:00 if the restaurant was closing up. "Well," he said, "I'd originally planned on asking if you wanted to go for ice cream after - or , well, sorbet I guess - but everything's closed, now."

Justin shrugged. "It's okay." It would have been nice, but it wasn't the end of the world, and he'd enjoyed lingering over dinner like this, losing track of time and spending it with each other.

"Yeah." Brett sighed once and looked over his shoulder to clear himself to back out. "I've got some more research to do, anyway. And I have a pretty big test Thursday I need to study for. I should be getting home."

"Maybe tomorrow, then," Justin offered.

Brett glanced over at him for a moment as they reached the parking lot exit. "Yeah," he said. "You have tomorrow off, right?"

'Yeah."

"Maybe we could overlap in the student union on your way in and my way out? About noon?"

"Yeah." Justin grinned.

When Brett dropped Justin off, he waited in the car and watched as his friend headed to the front door, not driving off until Justin had unlocked it and turned around and waved. Brett waved back and went on his way. It was one of the millions of little ways he showed he cared and one of the many reasons Justin had fallen in love with him in the first place.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time as he shut the door behind him. There was a text from Nate. The one from earlier. _Oops_. He opened it as Nate poked his head out from the kitchen.

"Sorry, just getting your text now," Justin said, going through his inbox to open it up. Nate leaned a little further out and tapped the wall to get Justin's attention. Justin looked up.

_Don't worry about it,_ he signed. _I was just telling you not to worry because I was already working on food here._

Justin glanced over at the TV when he heard softly spoken dialogue. He nodded toward it. "You watching this?"

Nate shrugged and pulled an exaggerated face of indifference, which Justin took to mean, _You can change it if you want._

Justin shook his head. "That's cool. I was just going to turn it off if you weren't."

_Did you tell him_? Nate's question was abrupt, but not unexpected.

"No."

_When will you?_

"I don't know."

_Will you ever_?

"I don't know, Nate. Probably not."

Nate sighed and looked away, gesturing for Justin to follow him back into the kitchen where he was making rice and beans. _You can't keep doing this to yourself, Justin._ His face was sad. _You're making yourself crazy._

Justin shrugged, but Nate was right. But what was the point? The only difference was then Brett would know he was being crazy. Nothing else would change, at least, not for the better. It wouldn't ruin their friendship, but somebody would end up getting hurt. Maybe both of them.

"So how was your sister's thing?

Nate grinned. _It was awesome, which isn't something I'd expect to say about a high school choral concert. But she's been practicing and she's gotten really good. They have a talented group this year. There was a minor incident before she went onstage because she wore bright green knee socks, which wasn't part of the dress code, but Mom managed to smooth it over. She asks about you sometimes. Mom and Dad were, too. They miss you._

Justin smiled as he leaned back the island counter across from Nate as he continued to sign, his cooking paused for the moment. "Yeah?"

_Yeah. I know things aren't the best with your family, but no matter how shitty things are with them, you've always got mine, okay? They practically adopted you on the spot when you tried to follow me home from the park when we were five. You've got their number. Don't be afraid to call them. You're family, Justin, okay?_

"Yeah," Justin said. "Thanks, Nate."


	4. Chapter 4

Brett hadn't been lying when he'd told Justin he hated his classes, but he had forgotten his Literature and Film class while he was ranting about how much he hated his major. At least for now, while he could still pad his coursework with humanities, he'd managed to work in one interesting class per semester, just for him, that he could somehow wedge in as a general requirement.

Even though theatre was where he really wanted to be, he'd shied away from taking any acting courses, afraid he'd get sucked in and never find his way out. He compromised with himself with things like film and music history and the occasional literature class. Even though his scholarship only covered three years of tuition and nothing else, that was a big chunk of his bachelor's. Although it still left him one year to figure out on his own, he justified the extra couple of hundred for these classes by telling himself if he didn't take them, he's probably eventually lose his mind and quit altogether. _This is good for me_.

He checked his phone as he left the classroom. There was a message from someone at his work phone number.

_Crap_.

He dialed his mailbox and punched in his password.

"Hey, Brett, this is Scott, manager on duty for afternoon shift. We got a call in and I know you're always looking for extra hours, so I thought I'd call you first and see if you want to come in early. Give me a call as soon as you can."

He sighed and hung up. He checked the time. About ten minutes to noon and his shift ended at eleven that night. He'd be pulling about ten hours by the time he got there, and he had a test tomorrow.

He had to call back either way. It only rang once before he got an answer.

"Thank you for calling Burrito Joint, how can I help you?"

"Hey, it's Brett. Can I talk to Scott?"

"Yeah, sure." The phone went quiet when she put him on hold. Brett lingered outside the door, waiting to make his way to the student union.

"Hey, Brett?"

"Hey, Scott. Yeah, I might be able to come in early, but I have a really big exam tomorrow. Would I be able to study during downtime as long as everything else gets done?"

"As long as everything gets done when it's supposed to, that's fine."

Brett bit the inside of his lip and hesitated. He'd been so excited about hanging out with Justin, but he needed the money. Justin wouldn't be mad. They'd both canceled on each other before. Life happened.

"Yeah," he said. "All right. What time do you need me in?"

"When can you be here?"

Brett sighed and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and bumping his head against the brick. "I need about an hour to get back home and ready before I can come in. I live pretty far from my school."

"Can you be in at 1:00?"

"Around?" Brett offered. "I'd be cutting it close. I might be ten minutes or so after."

"Thank you, Brett." The relief was audible in Scott's voice. "You're awesome. I'll see you when you get in."

"Yeah. See you then." Brett hung up. His arms dropped, limp, by his sides, fingers still curled around his phone. With a sigh, he lifted his hands again and sent a quick text to Justin.

_I'm going to have to cancel. Got called into work early. I'm so sorry. I hope you're not waiting around too long for your classes to start._

He watched the screen, staying by the wall, waiting for a reply before he moved on. It took a few minutes for Justin's response to come through.

_that sucks but i understand. i can keep myself busy in the library; should be practicing my german anyway. you still working til 11? i can pop in during the slow patch to help you with your boredom._

A small smile tugged at Brett's mouth. Justin always said that it took too long to capitalize and the way the keyboard was set up hurt his thumbs too much to bother caring. At least he used proper punctuation.

_Yeah. That'd be great. Thanks. =) Sorry again. Maybe we can do something this weekend. I'll check around and see if there are any good bands playing anywhere._

With one more sigh, he pocketed his phone, readjusted his bookbag, and headed back to his car.

He threw his organic chemistry book and notes on the passenger's seat so he wouldn't leave them at home with his backpack, then made his way back home. He put on NPR so he had to pay attention to something but his mind kept wandering, anyway, and soon the interviews and radio plays all blurred together, fuzzy in the back of his head, like bees buzzing somewhere in the distance. He tried to pull it back to his schoolwork, if he couldn't focus on the radio, but that didn't happen, either.

His thoughts kept wandering back to Justin and what he'd told him in the car last night.

_You're perfect_.

Justin hadn't heard him, since he asked Brett to repeat himself. _Thank God._

Brett hadn't planned on saying it. It just tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it. He hadn't meant that Justin was _perfect_ , not in the way people usually meant it. He wasn't flawless or untouchable. But everything about him was exactly how it should have been, and in that way, it was true,

The moment was brief, but it had been enough to scare the hell out of him, because what if it wasn't just a passing crush? Justin was one of his best friends. And Brett still hadn't figured out this sexuality thing for himself. Was he bisexual? He wasn't sure. The sudden shift from noticing the occasional attractive woman to obsessing over his best male friend was too big, too overwhelming. It was too much to handle or even understand.

_God, I need a therapist or something._ Having a safe place to spew all this out would probably help him a lot.

When he got home, he dropped off his things, changed into his uniform, and quickly choked down some cold leftovers for lunch before heading back out. He got one free meal on shift, but… _gross_. The fact that there was pork on the menu and only Cass and Reggie took cross contamination seriously made him too nervous to bother trying. The fact that keeping Kosher was so difficult on such a limited budget and busy schedule was why he'd gone vegetarian in the first place. It was impossible to mess up when there was no meat involved.

There was nobody else at the counter when Brett arrived and tucked his study materials onto the bottom shelf. The customers came in at a trickle. The lunch rush had ended early.

At 3:00, Cass arrived. He took a moment to wave as she passed by the counter to head back to the kitchen before he turned back to his line.

It was only three people, and after he got through the last, business died down, like it always did that time during the week. Brett glanced around the dining room to make sure everything was clean and stocked before pulling out his notes and placing them on the shelf just below the countertop. He kept an ear out for the door, but it stayed quiet about ten minutes before he half-noticed Cass sauntering up beside him.

"He~ey, Brett," she sing-songed.

"Hey." He flipped the page, squinting at the sentence up top. He needed to slow down while he was taking notes. He could barely read his own handwriting.

"So, how'd it go?" She drew out her 'o's, long and slow.

"How did what go?" The door opened and Brett started to close his notebook when she said,

"Your dinner with Justin of course!"

"It was fine, thanks for asking."

Brett jumped and his hands jerked so hard in surprise that his notebook went flying across the tile floor. When he looked up, Justin was standing there, grinning down at a bright red Cass. _Well, good. She should be embarrassed._

He smiled, gesturing at Brett's shirt collar. "Your buttons aren't lined up."

Brett glanced down. The top one was misaligned. And nobody had told him? All day? _Really?_ His nose went a little too warm as he ran his fingers down to fix them, murmuring an embarrassed, "Thanks." He ducked down to pick up his notebook and as he stood, he glanced over at Cass. She was smirking in a way he _really_ didn't like.

"Don't you –"

"I have to go clean off the flat top." She popped her words like bubblegum as she twirled toward the kitchen. Her steps were light and much too self-assured.

Justin raised an eyebrow and pointed back in her direction. "Did I do something to offend her?"

Brett shook his head and chuckled. "No. If you did, you wouldn't have to ask. When it gets slow she just likes to flit around and make sure everyone's doing okay."

Justin nodded, and when he smiled again, it was _that_ smile. The smile that made Brett's pulse pick up and made him think he wasn't as straight as he told himself he was.

_Oh God. Yep, I sure did just think that._

His hands were on the counter and Justin was leaning down against his elbow. Their hands were so close Brett could feel the warmth of his skin and suddenly all he could think about was Justin's hand around his wrist last night in the dining room. Justin's fingers had been pressed right into his pulse point, rough and callused, and Brett had to force himself to stop right there because he knew if he kept going he would start to fixate on the way it made the back of his neck both shiver and burn all at once.

Brett shifted, casually pulling his hand away from Justin's and closer to the edge of the counter. He didn't seem to notice. Brett hooked his thumb in his belt and leaned back slightly.

Suddenly, Justin's expression changed. His eyes darted over Brett's face. "You okay?" His voice was soft. Concerned.

_I really need to gain better control of my facial expressions._ Brett had thought he'd gotten the subtlety thing down. Clearly not.

Or maybe Justin had just gotten very, very good at reading him.

"Yeah," Brett said. "Just got a lot of on my mind right now. _Please don't ask what._

"What's up?"

_Crap_.

"School's just getting rough," he lied. "Midterms are coming up. The job thing. Darcey's contract with the Army is supposed to be up soon but we still don't know when he's coming home and, honestly, I'm worried something's going to go wrong and he'll be stuck. Just… life, I guess," he finished lamely. He swallowed and glanced down at Justin's hand, then his own, and his mind tacked on, _And I can't figure out why I keep thinking about how much I want to kiss you whoa wait, what?_ _ **What?**_ No, kissing Justin was not a thing he'd ever thought about before.

Brett still had no idea what his sexual orientation was, but now, at least, he knew he wasn't straight, because that was definitely not a thing straight guys thought.

_Shit._

He wasn't worried about his friendships being in danger. He didn't have many friends, but the ones he did were the most open-minded and accepting people he knew. Otherwise they wouldn't have been his friends.

But what about his family? What about his dad? His grandma? Darcey?

_It's only a problem if you act on it_.

The thought was almost like a knife going straight through his stomach.

"Is there anything I can help with?" Justin leaned a little closer and Brett could just barely smell his shampoo, like peppermint.

Brett shrugged. "I'll be okay."

Justin watched him for a long while, calculating, like he knew there was something Brett wasn't telling him. But he didn't push, just eventually, hesitantly said, "Well, okay. But if you ever need anything."

"Yeah. Thanks, Justin." Brett's voice was soft and he could tell by the raise of Justin's eyebrow that he didn't believe his smile, but he didn't question it, either.

"Of course."

Suddenly, more than anything, Brett wished he could weave his fingers with Justin's and squeeze his hand. Justin glanced over at the door and back. "Well, I know I interrupted your reading, and I've got some studying of my own to do, so I'll get out of your way. Have a good night, okay? You can always call me if you need to."

Brett nodded and thanked him again. Justin gave his shoulder a friendly clap before he left. Brett's gaze lingered on the door even after his friend was gone before he sighed to himself and scrubbed at his face with the heels of his hands. He went back to his notes. He could stress about these weird feelings later. Right now he had to stress about this test.

He opened his notebook to where he'd left off and nearly tore the page out when Cass bumped her shoulder against his. He really needed to be more aware of his surroundings.

"Hey, Cass. _"_ He was very careful to keep his eyes away from hers and on his notes. She rested her elbow on his shoulder and knocked her hip against his. When he looked over, she was grinning far too brightly for his comfort.

"You're starting to see it, aren't you?"

Brett swallowed and looked back at his notebook. His voice shook when he said, "I don't know what you're talking about." It was bare, but enough for her to notice.

"You're a terrible liar," she laughed.

"I don't know what's wrong with you," Brett said. "He wasn't flirting with me. He's concerned because I have a lot of shit going on right now and he wants to make sure I'm okay."

Cass went quiet. When Brett looked up, her face was thoughtful. She wasn't joking anymore.

"You never swear," she said.

"Sorry."

"I'm not offended. Half the stuff I say back there in Spanish is swearing. I'm just pointing it out. What's going on?"

"I just have a lot going on," he repeated. "I'm confused enough as it is, and all your –" His mouth snapped shut so hard his teeth cracked. Cass's eyes widened and a huge grin spread across her face.

_Oh shit. Oh shit shit shit fuck fuck fuck fuck._

Brett expected her to gloat, to start dancing or singing, but all she did was nod a few times and say emphatically, "Pick up your cell phone, Brett, because I fucking _called_ it."

He pushed his notes away and slumped down on the counter, pulling his hat over his eyes. When he spoke, it sounded suspiciously like a whimper. "Cass, don't. Please. I can't deal with this right now. My life isn't one of your online fanfics. I have a lot of fucked up shit happening and whatever is or isn't happening with Justin right now is only part of it. Just don't."

She took a step back, hurt. Brett was about to apologize, but she spoke first.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to make you feel like that. I'm not making fun of you, Brett. I'm being serious. Justin's really into you and he makes you happy. That's all. I'm sorry if I made you feel weird."

Brett pushed his hat back up just enough to see her face. He blew a stray, fluffy curl out of his eyes. It fell right back in. Cass nudged his shoulder with hers and said, "So, if you can forgive me for being a jerk, I'd like to say just one more thing on the subject?'

He hesitated, then nodded once, curtly.

"Talk to him," she said. "And be honest with both him and yourself. I think you'll be surprised."

A slow smile spread across Brett's face. Cass smiled back.

"And since he's in love with you and everything, I'm pretty sure you'll be okay."

He shook his head and laughed It was soft and a little hysterical, but his shoulders loosened and his chest untwisted, just a bit. Then, Cass was laughing, too, as she headed back toward the kitchen again, singing as she went.


	5. Chapter 5

The few people in Justin's family who hadn't disowned him would kill him if they knew he was sleeping with a Black man. His name was Lawrence and he was insufferable and rude and full of himself, but _damn_ was he attractive, and he was really good in bed. But mentally and emotionally they were like oil and flame, so even though they were _sexually_ compatible, they didn't date because they both knew it would explode within the first week.

And because Justin was in love with Brett, but he wasn't about to tell Lawrence that. Lawrence wouldn't be jealous. They weren't even friends with benefits, just a one night stand that never ended. But Lawrence would make fun of him, ruthlessly, and Justin could handle insults about himself, but _never_ about the people he cared for.

Occasionally one would text the other and they'd meet up at Lawrence's place for an hour or two, then Justin would go back on his way. Sometimes they saw each other every few days. Sometimes a month or more would go by. Justin had seen him last week and didn't want much to see him again, but this time, Lawrence had texted him first. Nate wasn't home and the insomnia kept getting worse and worse and it wasn't like he was cheating because he and Brett weren't even _dating_ , but that was exactly what it felt like.

And Justin was lonely. He'd been a sexual person since puberty hit. Monogamy hadn't even been a thing for him until his first serious boyfriend in college, because that had been what he'd wanted and Justin was _not_ a cheater. It ended up not lasting, anyway. Like everything.

It was a complicated conflict of emotions. It was wrong, it was sinful, it was disgusting. Or, maybe it wasn't, and maybe all that was just the residual guilt he'd carried from the church when he was younger. He was going to Hell because he was gay, because he'd had sex out of wedlock, because his best friends were a multi-racial atheist and a Jewish man and he didn't want to convert either of them, because he didn't worship in the same way. Recently, he didn't worship at all. He hadn't stepped foot in a church or bible study group since leaving his parents'.

He was going to Hell because he _existed_.

_If I'm going anyway, I may as well enjoy myself on the way down, right?_

There were no pleasantries when Lawrence let him in the house, no 'how are you?'s or 'the weather's getting better's, because they both knew exactly why Justin was there and there was no reason for pretenses. At first it had been refreshing and had made the whole experience more enjoyable. Now it just felt like distance.

It was Thursday night, because Fridays were Justin's – concerts with Nate and Brett, clubbing at Narcissus with Sergio, sometimes just hanging out at home with a book and a good cup of coffee – and he wasn't about to let anyone butt in and ruin them. He kept his sex life very separate from his friends. Nobody but Nate knew much about it, because even his unsolicited advice was more than Justin could handle. From Sergio and his boyfriend? Too much.

He'd die of shame if Brett knew about it. Justin felt like his friend saw him as this nice, pure person, and he was afraid if Brett knew he wasn't… Justin didn't know what the consequences would be. But Brett would look at him differently.

Lawrence let him in, already only in his boxers. Justin followed him silently to the bedroom as he stripped off his shirt, undoing the chain around his neck and slipping it in his pocket for safekeeping. Shoes kicked off by the door, socks and pants kicked off by the bed. Lawrence put his big hand in the small of Justin's back, and when Justin turned to him, he smiled, perfect white teeth against dark umber skin. He nodded toward the bed, one eyebrow raised, and when he pushed Justin down, they laughed.

It was always nice until they started to speak.

Justin was facedown in the sheets, then Lawrence crawled on top of him, lips and teeth against neck and shoulders, moving down his back. Justin stretched his arms in front of him and hummed softly as Lawrence slid his hand underneath his abdomen, down to the curve of his hip, and for the next few hours, Justin shut off his mind and let his body take control.

"I missed you, baby," Lawrence said. Justin tensed and Lawrence licked his shoulder blade.

"I told you not to call me that." Then, he bit, and Justin hissed and his eyes rolled back as his face fell into the pillow.

"You're in my bed, and while you are, you're my bottom. I can call you whatever I want."

"Fuck you," Justin whispered, but the last word came out strangled and forced because Lawrence curled his fingers tight into his side, that tiny patch of muscle that was also an off switch to his ability to form words.

...

The two men lay in bed, not touching, not speaking. Lawrence was on his phone, as usual, and Justin was staring at the ceiling, as usual. He always felt so _empty_ afterward, and after he got so attached to Brett, he started feeling guilty, too. It didn't make any sense. But even if Brett wasn't his, he was Brett's, and that made his relationship with Lawrence a lot more complicated than it should have been. It wasn't cheating because he wasn't committed. Brett wasn't even interested in him. But somehow it always felt like he was, anyway, the guilt sharp and gnawing at the back of his throat.

Lawrence turned toward him, nudging him with the back of his big hand. Justin looked over.

"What do you think about a threesome?" Lawrence's voice had a playful lilt to it.

Justin opened his mouth to answer when Lawrence interrupted. "Before you say no, consider: he's a firefighter." He drew the last word out in a sing-song, a small grin pulling at his mouth as he flashed Justin a picture on the phone screen.

" _Oh_." Justin's eyebrows perked in interest. He took the phone, examined the picture of the man on the screen. Justin couldn't tell his height, but he was built solid, messy black hair, clean shaven. He looked like the kind of man he'd see in a Playgirl calendar. Did they make those?

Maybe he _was_ a little interested. "Is he clean?"

"I wouldn't ask if he were otherwise." Lawrence took his phone back with a sly smile. "You could be in the middle. I know how much you like being dominated."

Justin threw up his middle finger as he stood to find his pants. There was nothing wrong with being submissive in bed. Right? He hoped? Maybe? There wasn't anything fundamentally wrong with power play as long as everyone consented, right? It wasn't humiliating if he wanted it to happen?

That was what he'd thought, but Lawrence had a way of picking out all of his tiniest insecurities and mocking them ruthlessly.

"Oh, baby." Lawrence's voice was soft, mocking. _God, he's an asshole._ Everyone knew how patronizing Justin thought pet names were, but Lawrence _insisted_ on using them every chance that presented itself. _What can't any of my casual hookups be nice for a change?_

"One more preliminary question," Justin asked as he pulled on his jeans. "Is he in a monogamous relationship? I'm not going to be the asshole someone cheats with."

He fished his silver chain out of his pocket as Lawrence answered. "Not as far as I know."

Justin hooked the chain behind his neck and let the silver cross drop. He tucked it behind his shirt, where nobody could see it, but he knew it was there. A reminder. He wasn't sure of what, exactly. It wasn't reassuring anymore. Mostly it made him feel guilty. Sometimes he didn't know why he wore it anymore.

But that wasn't true. He wore it because his brother gave it to him, and if it weren't for him, their family would have shattered when Justin came out at age thirteen. Even though Noah's move to San Fransisco had been hard on Justin, at least his brother had waited until they were both out of the house. By then, his parents had finally started to come around, but his brother had been his biggest source of support in the family. He'd been the only one who'd never taken issue.

He'd been the one who had gotten the family a serious therapist when their pastor suggested one. If it weren't for Noah, Justin was sure he would have ended up in reparative therapy and become an even bigger mess than he already was.

He was an hour earlier than Justin. He'd get in touch when he got home.

"I'm going to head out," he said. He grabbed his hoodie, which he hadn't needed much recently, but until it hit the mid-70s on a regular basis, it went where he went.

"You didn't give me an answer," Lawrence said.

"Sure. Fine, I'll come by. But if I decide I'm not into it I'm turning right back around again."

Lawrence sent off a text while Justin pulled his hoodie on. He pulled the hood up around his neck, decided against it and pushed it back down to his shoulders again. He lingered, hands stuffed in his pockets, as he waited for a reply.

"Tomorrow night?" Lawrence asked.

"No." Justin didn't hesitate. "Fridays are mine."

Lawrence shrugged. "Well, then, I guess you won't be here."

"Guess not."

He left.

It was dark, but not late, only about 9:00. The drive wasn't far, thankfully, because dealing with Lawrence was exhausting, dealing with the way he made himself feel when he was with Lawrence was exhausting, and the eventual guilt trip he gave himself was exhausting.

Nate's car was back in the driveway when Justin arrived home. When he let himself in, the living room lights were off. A slash of light barely peeked out from under Nate's closed bedroom door. Whatever he was up to, he wanted to be left alone, so Justin left him be. He'd have heard the door open. Justin would say hello later when Nate came out again.

He plopped down at his desk, started up his laptop, and logged into his IM. He had Skype, too, but for some reason Noah didn't like webcams, and although Justin had told him they could just do text chat, too, Noah still refused to download it.

Justin sent him a text as he logged in.

_noah! you home? you should get online so we can talk._

Not long after, his computer dinged, and Noah's screen name popped up on the online list. Justin sent a message, first.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Hey, man! How have you been?

**AreYouThereGod** : Hey! :) I've been okay. Busy busy but other than that, things are good. Finishing up my senior year? What? Haha, soon I'll have my very own bachelor's in psychology.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : That's really awesome! When's the graduation? I should probably request the time off sooner rather than later so I can be sure to get out there.

Noah didn't respond for quite some time, but he was probably getting dinner ready with his girlfriend about now. Justin spent a while ignoring his sociology guide so he could look at cats on the internet, but about five minutes later, he still hadn't gotten a reply.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Hey, you there?

**AreYouThereGod** : Yeah.

**AreYouThereGod** : Sorry. Got distracted.

**AreYouThereGod** : Oh, hey! I'm going to connect to you so I can send you a picture of me and Erika at the Rainbow Festival.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Okay! But since when do you go to gay pride stuff? I thought both you and Erika are straight?

He didn't reply. He just connected and sent the picture.

_AreYouThereGod:_

Justin clicked the link. He chuckled and rolled his eyes. Noah must have had a lot on his mind. He even sent the wrong picture! Erika was in it, but he wasn't. She was hugging another woman.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Dude, you sent me the wrong picture. It's Erika and some other woman. You're not even in it!

**AreYouThereGod** : Yeah. I am.

For a very, very long moment, Justin looked at the text, back at the picture in the corner of his screen. What? He hadn't been this confused in a _long_ time.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : But… both the people in this picture are women?

**AreYouThereGod** : Yep.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I. What? Dude, I'm confused. If you're trying to subtly tell me something it's not working. I'm as thick as a brick wall, remember? You can't have forgotten that. You haven't been gone that long.

**AreYouThereGod** : Justin, I am sighing so fucking heavily at you right now. I'm rolling my eyes so hard they're about to detach and fall out of my head.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : What!? Dude, if you want to tell me something, just tell me?

**AreYouThereGod** : Justin, I'm trans. I'm a trans woman. I'm the brunette in the picture. I've been on HRT since about six months after my move.

**AreYouThereGod** : I'm just scared and passive-aggressive and was trying to diffuse any potential issues by sending you the picture.

Justin's breath caught and his hands froze above the keyboard. Oh.

_Oh._

That explained why he hadn't been back since moving to California. Why he never came back for Christmas break. He - she, now, this was going to take some getting used to - always said there was too much going on, work or school or she'd gotten sick or something. There was always a reason. Justin just thought that after everything their parents had put them through she was glad to finally get out.

**AreYouThereGod** : Justin, your silence is really freaking me out.

**AreYouThereGod** : I really thought you were the one person in the family I'd be safe with.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : You are! Shit, I'm so sorry. No, no, of course you're safe with me. And if you want I can keep you quiet until you want to start telling everyone else.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I'm just really surprised. You were never even remotely feminine when we were growing up. When did you realize all this?

**AreYouThereGod** : Since I was a little kid. Maybe nine-ish? I just knew it wasn't safe to do or say anything about it.

**AreYouThereGod** : That's why I was so damn proud of you when you came out and basically told Pastor Hall he could fuck himself when he told you you were going to Hell. You were so much braver than me. And that's one of the reasons I fought so hard to make sure you'd be taken care of properly.

**AreYouThereGod** : And by that time I pretty much had to stay in the closet for both our safety. Sometimes it seemed like I was the only one on your side and I was afraid people would try to cut us off from each other.

**AreYouThereGod** : Honestly, I had decided by the time you were fifteen that if Mom and Dad didn't get their shit together regarding accepting you and treating you right, I was taking you with me when I moved out of their house.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I always knew you were the coolest brother ever.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : SISTER.

**DominatedLoveSlave**. Shit, I'm sorry. Please try to be patient with me. I know I'm going to fuck up the pronoun thing in the beginning.

**AreYouThereGod** : Well, you corrected it immediately, which means you care about doing it right. That's what matters. Just pay attention, okay?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Of course. Thanks for understanding my screwups. I'll work hard to keep them to a minimum. So, are you still going by Noah? Are you changing your name?

**AreYouThereGod** : Just shuffling the letters around a little. So it's Nora now.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : You're a better person than I. With our family I'd ditch my name and call myself something else completely.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : You pick a middle name?

**AreYouThereGod** : No, I just dropped it completely. So it's just Nora Gibson.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Sounds like a folk singer.

**AreYouThereGod** : I know, right? I think it's classy.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : So, how's Erika about all this?

**AreYouThereGod** : We started dating after I'd been on HRT for about four months, so she knew straight from the beginning. Sex was a little weird at first but with a little mental gymnastics we figured it out. Eventually I'm going to get more surgery but it's so expensive. But in the meantime, we manage.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : More?

**AreYouThereGod** : I got some facial work done. Estrogen is great but it wasn't enough for my manly face! Haha. That's why my chin and jawline are so much softer now.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Oh! Okay. Well, congratulations. You look really great! All I want is for you to be happy. That's all that matters to me.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I do have one question though?

**AreYouThereGod** : Shoot!

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Is it okay if I tell Nate and Brett? I talk about you with them all the time and I know for a fact that neither of them would be bothered. They'll both be really happy that you're finally where you want to be.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I won't, like, suddenly make an announcement or call a meeting, just, the next time you come up in conversation I'd like to make a mention of it so I can refer to you properly? But only if it's okay with you. I know how fucking infuriating it is when people just out you without your permission.

She didn't answer right away, and this time, Justin didn't push. He knew how important this decision was.

**AreYouThereGod** : I'm okay with them knowing, but it can't get back to Mom and Dad. They can't do anything to me, but I still worry about you. I know that you still need stuff from them, like tax forms for the FAFSA and stuff and I don't want them screwing you over because of me.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Of course.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : And Nora? Don't worry about me so much. I know I make a lot of stupid mistakes, like, all the time, but you have your own life, too. Take care of yourself and your needs, too, okay?

**AreYouThereGod** : That's exactly what I'm doing. =) That's why I skipped to San Francisco the moment I knew you'd be okay. But big sisters are still allowed to worry about their little brothers!

**AreYouThereGod** : Oh, God, Justin, you have no idea how much of a relief it is to be able to say that after so long. =)

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I really wish I could hug you right now.

**AreYouThereGod** : Yeah, me too.

**AreYouThereGod** : Oh, God, I'm actually crying right now I'm so relieved.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I love you, okay?

**AreYouThereGod** : I love you, too.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : So, now that I know, does this mean you'll finally download Skype so we can talk face to face? :D

**AreYouThereGod** : Hell yes!

Justin grinned, arms curled around his abdomen since he couldn't wrap them around her. He pulled up the picture again, really looking this time.

He'd never seen her with a smile like that. The joy radiated from her face like ripples in clear water. Erika was pressing a kiss to her cheek and their arms were wrapped around each other. Even obscured by their heavy coats, Justin could see the joy in their bodies, too.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : You have no idea how happy I am for you, Nora. I really, really am. Thanks for finally telling me. I'm sorry If I ever did anything to make you feel like you couldn't.

**AreYouThereGod** : Not really? I mean, you never said anything transphobic at any point. It was mostly a self-preservation thing to keep me safe from the rest of the family. They're pissed off enough that I'm in a long term relationship with a black woman. If they found out I'm a woman, too? DISASTER.

**AreYouThereGod** : Sudden subject change! So, I'd like to bring you out here for your birthday. I know it's not until summer, but then you'll be done with classes anyway so that's pretty convenient.

**AreYouThereGod** : I know you have to work but maybe you can get a few days off?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I'll try! That would be awesome.

**AreYouThereGod** : And if money is a problem just let me know and I'll meet you halfway. And don't worry about a hotel, you'll be staying with us.

**AreYouThereGod** : Aaaaaand if you're seeing anyone by that time that you want to bring, you're more than welcome. =D

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Haha, probably not. I haven't dated since Sergio and I broke up in November. Just casual hookups.

**AreYouThereGod** : =(

**DominatedLoveSlave** : No, no, it was better for both of us. He's an amazing guy, but with me being all hung up over Brett, it wasn't fair. He deserved better. It was amiable. We still hang out. I'm actually probably seeing him tomorrow for drag night down at Narcissus. He's dating the owner there now, Rocky, and they're perfect for each other, so it worked out.

**AreYouThereGod** : Except for you? =(

**DominatedLoveSlave** : That's okay.

**AreYouThereGod** : I just hate seeing you sad, Justin. If you don't want to date, that's okay! You don't need to be in a relationship to be happy. But it seems clear to me that that is exactly what would make you happy.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I don't want just any relationship, though. I want to be with Brett.

**AreYouThereGod** : Have you told him?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : No. Probably never.

**AreYouThereGod** : Why? I thought he was one of your best friends. If that's true then this won't change it. Get it off your chest. It will help.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : What's the point? He's straight.

**AreYouThereGod** : Are you sure?

Something about that simple question nearly melted Justin's brain. What? What did she mean, was he sure?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : He had a girlfriend for three years in high school.

**AreYouThereGod** : And? So that means he's straight? Has he explicitly said he's only interested in women? He could be bi.

There it went. His brain shorted out so quick and so hard he forgot how to use his hands, and instead of typing his answer, he stammered it out loud:

"He _what_?"

She was psychic, because she responded to his thoughts before he typed them to her.

**AreYouThereGod** : Justin, you of all people should know that sexual orientation is not so cut and dry. It's not just gay or straight. There's a ton of space in the middle taken up by many, many people. Sexuality isn't a line. It's a crazy state of flux with people spinning around and bumping into each other all the time.

**AreYouThereGod** : Do you remember watching Dr. Who with me when you were little?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Kind of? I remember an English guy going around space in a phone booth.

**AreYouThereGod** : Close enough.

**AreYouThereGod** : So that phone booth (which was a police box, actually) is called the Tardis. And sexual orientation is like the Tardis. It's complicated and sometimes impossible to predict and you just have to go with it and hope for the best and pray you end up in the right place at the right time.

**AreYouThereGod** : I'm sorry for the lecture, but I just feel like you should know how dangerous assuming a person's sexual identity can be.

**AreYouThereGod** : I can't count the number of times you've come to me, angry because people keep assuming you're straight and then freaking out when you're not. How alienating it was because it meant that they labeled you as "not normal." And obviously you are more than right to feel that way. But you could be doing the exact same thing to him right now, just by accident.

**AreYouThereGod** : Talk to him. If he cares about you as much as you make him seem to, even if he doesn't reciprocate, at least you can get it out there and start to get over it instead of sitting around with it festering and burning you up.

**AreYouThereGod** : Or at least put out some feelers, because he might not actually be straight. The people you date do not define your sexual orientation.

**AreYouThereGod** : REMEMBER THAT.

**AreYouThereGod** : /lecture

**DominatedLoveSlave** : How are you always so perfect and right about everything.

**AreYouThereGod** : **grins It comes with years and years of practice.

**AreYouThereGod** : So does this mean you'll finally talk to him?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I've never been able to lie to you.

**AreYouThereGod** : That means 'probably not,' doesn't it.

**AreYouThereGod** : NOT COOL JUSTIN.

**AreYouThereGod** : Clearly you need some more lectures, but unfortunately I cannot be the one to give them, since Erika is calling me into the kitchen to help finish dinner. But I can text someone who can take over for me! =D

**DominatedLoveSlave** : NO

Justin closed his eyes and groaned when Nate's text alert tone went off in the room opposite.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : You are a terrible person.

**AreYouThereGod** : Who is perfect and is always right about everything. Don't forget it!

**AreYouThereGod** : Have a good night, Justin.

**AreYouThereGod** : Thank you.

_User AreYouThereGod has logged off_

Justin sighed and dropped his head to his desk, counting down from ten. Sure enough, when he hit one, Nate opened his door and popped his head into Justin's room.

_Hey, Justin. What's up?_

Justin grumbled and shook his head, flattening his cheek against his desk so he could better see Nate sign. Somehow Nate was able to translate it into normal words and responded.

_Okay, well, your brother just texted me and -_

"My sister."

Nate paused. Finally, Justin sat up. His taller friend raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"My sister," Justin repeated. "She just came out to me as transgender, like, literally right now. So, she's my sister. Her name's Nora."

Nate paused, processing, and he fingerspelled the name a few times, as if committing it to memory. Then he nodded his head and continued. _Okay. Well, your sister texted me and said you need some lecturing about making good life choices, so here I am. Don't do drugs, don't sleep with assholes, be honest and true to yourself, eat your vegetables. Can I come in and sit down?_

Justin smiled weakly and gestured toward the bed. He pushed his chair out and swiveled toward it so they could look at each other as they talked. "Well, I've got a handle on most of that?"

Nate sighed as he plopped down on the bed, elbows on his knees. For a few moments, he watched Justin closely, calculating.

_You're still seeing that Lawrence guy, aren't you?_

Justin's mouth twisted and he nodded. "I just came from there."

Nate rubbed at his face like he could scrub Justin's problems out of his vision. He dropped his hands in his lap and sighed. He was all long limbs and sharp corners. He'd never grown into himself like Justin did. He just kept getting taller.

_I thought you said last week you were done?_

Justin sighed, brushing his shaggy hair out of his face. "Well, he texted me tonight, and you weren't home and I haven't been sleeping, so -"

_Justin._ The sign was sharp and stern. Justin fell quiet. _You need to stop. I don't like what he does to you and I know you don't, either. I know he's good in bed and I know regular sex helps you sleep, but you always…_ His hands trailed off, hanging loosely in the air. _You change the nights you see him. You get withdrawn and quiet and not exactly defensive, but… what's the word I'm looking for?_ He paused, gnawing on his lip ring as he watched his friend. Justin tried not to squirm under his gaze, because he knew Nate wasn't judging him, just thinking. But it still felt a lot like judging anyway.

_You get sad. And almost like you're ashamed of yourself, which you shouldn't be. I mean, you've had your screwups, but -_

"Thanks," Justin huffed. He rolled his eyes.

_No, give me a minute. I fuck up a lot, too. I've had my share of bad relationships and shitty one night stands. But what I'm saying is, you shouldn't be with someone who makes you feel ashamed of yourself. I know you're not dating, but it doesn't matter. He clearly has an effect on you. And I don't think either of us likes it. I know you're all knotted up because of Brett, but that doesn't mean you should punish yourself. That doesn't mean you should settle. You deserve better. You deserve someone who respects you._

Justin sighed softly, but didn't confirm or disagree. He shrugged.

_What are you doing tomorrow night?_

"Probably going to drag night at Narcissus with Sergio."

_Good!_ The sign was big and bright and Nate sat up straight, clapping his hands to his knees. _Okay, that's perfect. So, go, have fun, dance, flirt, and if you need another casual sex buddy you can find one there who won't treat you like shit._

"You can probably come, if you want?" Justin offered. But Nate could sense his hesitance and smiled. He shook his head and held up his hand.

_I'm not about to invade your space, man. There are tons of straight clubs I can go to. You guys don't need me barging in on you. I know you'd be cool with it but I don't want anyone else getting uncomfortable or feeling like they have to act different because some straight guy is hanging around. You don't have to invite me to be polite._

Justin smiled and slumped in his chair, relieved.

"Thanks for understanding."

_No problem. So go text Sergio and tell him I said hey and I hope he's doing well, and other than that, tomorrow's your night, man. Enjoy it._

He stood and ruffled Justin's hair even though he had to walk out of the way of his path to do it as Justin grabbed his phone. He sent Sergio a quick text.

_you going to the show tomorrow?_

He texted back immediately, like always. Sometimes they joked that his phone had fused to his hand.

_Hell yea! I'm going to be there 7PM sharp. Does that mean you're coming out? We've missed you!_

Justin grinned and replied. _cool. i'll be your dd. won't be there until closer to 8 though because my classes run late._

_You mean I can drink? Fuck yea! You're the best, Justin, I don't care what anyone says about you. I'll see you tomorrow. Dress sexy, the guys here have gotten hotter since you last came out._

Justin let out a long breath that was half laugh, half sigh of relief, and put his phone back on the desk. When he looked up, Nate was lingering at the half open door, smiling.

_That's better. I know you can't see your own face right now, but that's the kind of smile I want to see. I know things have been rough for a long time, but it's getting better, right?_

Justin rolled his eyes and hummed noncommittally, but nodded.

"Yeah," he said finally. "Thanks, Nate."


	6. Chapter 6

It was Friday night and Brett was a junior in college. He should have been out drinking with his classmates to celebrate the fact that he aced his chemistry exam, but instead, he was looking forward to zoning out by himself, listening to some music, making a pot of coffee and reading a good book or maybe watching a movie.

He was _tired_. He was so, so tired. It was a bone-deep, all encompassing exhaustion, not only in his body, but in his brain, and he needed some time to recharge. He didn't even want to see anyone. He just wanted some time on his own where he didn't have to do or think about anything.

It was still only 6:00, because even though he usually worked Fridays, the call-off from earlier that week needed to make up her hours and picked up his shift. Usually he'd have turned it down, but this time he needed the break. So he had his first Friday off in over a year.

He was eating takeout at his computer desk from the vegetarian Thai place down the street. Usually, he didn't eat out more than once every few weeks, but… he deserved it. He didn't have the energy to cook and this was healthier than most alternatives. He ate with one hand and moved his mouse with the other, catching up on news until he got bored and decided to check his email, instead. He hadn't since Wednesday. Maybe there was something from Darcey.

He glanced down at the Skype icon in the corner. Nobody was online but him. Darcey could still have been working. Brett didn't know his schedule, only that some nights were later than others.

There were four emails in his inbox. Two mailing lists, one from Annie, and one from Darcey. He went straight down in a line, starting with Annie's email.

> _Hi, Brett! =)_
> 
> _How did your test go? Did you do well? Your so smart and dedicated to your work, I'm shore you did grate!_
> 
> _Guess what! Something very exciting happened! You know how I said Andy said he was going to take me somewhere special? He did and he proposed to me! Eeee! I'm getting married, Brett! Annie and Andy . . . hehe. You definitely have too come to the wedding! We haven't decided when, yet, but we no we want to do it sometime in the summer of necks year. =D_
> 
> _Something not so happy happened, to, though. The bookstore closed. A bunch of people came in yesterday and bought up all but to books. =( I have too find another job really soon so I don't get behind on my rent. After my lease expires necks month, Andy and I are going to move in together, so things will be a little easier. We're going to get long distance phone service because his family lives in Washington, so that means I'll finally be able to call you again! Yay!_
> 
> _Now, about this person you told me about! What's her name? What's she like? I think if you like her you should do something about it! It sounds like she likes you, from what you told me. I mean, if she's a vegan and comes to visit you at a burrito place, even though she never eats anything! I think your friend Cass is rite. I know you said you'd feel guilty if you started dating her, but you really shouldn't. *hug* I just want you to be happy and if she can make you happy, than you should go for it!_
> 
> _Have you been in any plays yet? If not, than why not! You need to get back into acting, Brett. You are really amazing and the world needs to see you on stage._
> 
> _Oops, I have too go! I have another interview to get too. Have a lovely night!_
> 
> _Love Annie. :3_

Brett smiled as he read the email, but it faded almost immediately as he stuffed another bite into his mouth. _I'm a terrible person._ He hadn't lied, exactly, but he may as well have. He didn't specifically say he was talking about a woman, but he let Annie think it because that was what he wanted, and that was just as bad. It was insulting to her. It was insulting to Justin. He was acting like he was ashamed and it hurt deep in his stomach.

He pushed his food to the side, chopsticks rested carefully over the Styrofoam box. He clicked the reply button and began to type.

> _Hey Annie!_
> 
> _I aced my test! I'm so glad. I was really stressing about that thing. Only three left, including the midterm and final, but they're all worth equal amounts, thankfully._
> 
> _Congratulations on the engagement! That's really exciting! I've actually been saving up some money so I can come visit you over summer break, so we'll have a lot of celebrating to do when I get there! =D It sucks that the bookstore closed, though. I know how much you enjoyed working there. =( How did the interview go? What was it for?_
> 
> _Um, about the person I told you about in my last e-mail. I didn't tell you the entire truth, Annie. I'm really sorry but I wasn't sure how to say it. I feel so guilty now. I'm really sorry._
> 
> _The person's name is Justin, Annie. That's why I'm having such a hard time figuring out what to do. You're the only person I've admitted any of this to. I haven't even told Cass how I feel, yet. I mean, she knows. She's not dumb. She sees how I act around him. But I haven't actually told her. I've hardly even admitted it to myself. The reason I feel so guilty about liking him is because I've never felt like this about a man before. It's really confusing and hard to explain. He's one of my best friends. It just kills me to think that it might just be a hormonal thing, because of how I felt about you when we were together in high school, or to think that with you it may have just been a hormonal thing. The thought of either of those being true, it's really painful. It's almost physically painful, and I don't know what to do or even think about it. I really, really care about him. And the thing is, it's never been a physical thing, not even when it first started. It's always been completely emotional. Only recently (maybe within the past few weeks?) have I started noticing anything physical about him (you know, like that), but it was emotional first, exactly how it was with you. This probably sounds stupid, but I feel like I'd be betraying you if I try to have a relationship with him. I don't think I'd feel that way if he was a woman, and I know it makes no sense, but I don't know, it's just how I feel._ _I wish I could have told you all of this in person, or at least over the phone, but I can't so e-mail will have to do._
> 
> _No, I haven't been in any plays yet. I just don't have the time right now. More than anything I wish I could get back into acting and singing, but it's just not feasible right now. =/ High school is over and we can't live in the past._
> 
> _Love, Brett_

He read over it four or five (or ten or twenty) times, making sure everything was phrased as best he could, that even though he was rambling, at least his message was clear. When the words started to blur together, he sighed, rubbed his forehead, and clicked send. He pulled his food back in front of him and poked at it a few times, but suddenly he wasn't hungry because his stomach was full of knots and tension.

Only moments later, the Skype tone sounded, announcing that a friend had logged on. It was Annie. Brett pushed his food to the side again and started to type a message, but Annie got to him, first.

 

**LuvYaTomorrow** : hi brett!

**LuvYaTomorrow** : =D

**Mister_Cellophane** : Hi Annie!

**Mister_Cellophane** : How are you? I just replied to your e-mail.

**LuvYaTomorrow** : yay! i'll be right back i'm going too go check it

**Mister_Cellophane** : Just please tell me what you think once you read it.

**LuvYaTomorrow** : ok ^_^

 

The minutes dragged. Brett hadn't been this nervous since his first play, back when he was a freshman in high school playing one of the brothers in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. His first singing role, something that never happened to freshmen. He'd thought he was going to die.

This was kind of like that, but ten thousand times more terrifying, because there was a lot more at stake than hitting a sour note and not getting another chance onstage.

He curled his hand over his mouth as his started at the screen, waiting for a response. He swallowed, hard, and it felt like hot glass in the back of his throat.

He jumped when a new message popped up.

 

**LuvYaTomorrow** : so . . . you feel bad because you mite be in love with a guy and you feel like you'd be turning your back on our friendship if you try to go out with him?

**Mister_Cellophane** : Pretty much, I guess?

**LuvYaTomorrow** : sorry its probably a stupid question but i just need to be sure i undersand.

**LuvYaTomorrow** : *understand

**Mister_Cellophane** : No, it's okay. It's not stupid. The situation is stupid. I wasn't the most coherent in that e-mail.

**LuvYaTomorrow** : **hugs** brett no your not stupid! i don't no from experience because i've never gone through it but i can imagine it would be scary and confusing and i want to help!

**LuvYaTomorrow** : brett, don't feel gilty people don't decide who they love! so what if you like a guy as long as its reel it doesn't matter!

**LuvYaTomorrow** : *guilty

**LuvYaTomorrow** : i no its probably hard in arizona because its so conservative, but your in tempe now right? which is better than where we went to school for shore.

**LuvYaTomorrow** : will you be safe? that's the most important thing.

**Mister_Cellophane** : I think so? I mean, I don't even know if he feels the same way? And… I don't know. But you're getting way ahead of yourself here.

**Mister_Cellophane** : But you're okay with it?

**LuvYaTomorrow** : definately! ^_^

**LuvYaTomorrow** : *definatly? i don't no!

**LuvYaTomorrow** : ugh i hate that word i always spell it wrong! stupid dyslexia that's why i like email better so I can spell and grammer check

**Mister_Cellophane** : *hug* It's okay. :)

**LuvYaTomorrow** : what we had together in high school was reel, you never have to doubt that. and it sounds like the way you feel about your friend is reel to

**LuvYaTomorrow** : bisexuality is a thing you no!

**Mister_Cellophane** : :) Thank you, Annie.

**LuvYaTomorrow** : of coarse! your welcome! =)

**LuvYaTomorrow** : thank you for telling me. i'm actualy really honored i'm the first person you told. thank you for trusting me!

**LuvYaTomorrow** : but if he hurts you i'll come back to arizona and punch his face in!

**LuvYaTomorrow** : so how did you too meat?

**Mister_Cellophane** : We met at a punk show last year. I accidentally elbowed him in the face in the mosh pit and ended up giving him a black eye.

**Mister_Cellophane** : We found each other after the show and got to talking and found out we go to the same school. We've been friends ever since.

**LuvYaTomorrow** : O.o

**LuvYaTomorrow** : you and you're crazy punk music

**Mister_Cellophane** : *shrug*

**LuvYaTomorrow** : well i guess you don't need me too punch his face in it sounds like you have it under control! hehe

**Mister_Cellophane** : Quiet, you. :P

 

Brett laughed and his stomach relaxed. His breath still came a little too heavy and a little too fast, but his smile was so wide it hurt his face. His hands shook with leftover adrenaline that the relief hadn't yet washed out.

Someone else logged on. Brett un-minimized his contacts list. Darcey. He grinned and sent his cousin a quick message.

 

**Mister_Cellophane** : Hey! Can you video chat?

**SincerelyMe** : Not right now. Still at work.

**SincerelyMe** : I got your package yesterday, though! Thanks so much.

**Mister_Cellophane** : What did you think?

**SincerelyMe** : I think the little Charmeleon figure is fucking awesome. He's on my desk here at work guarding my computer.

**SincerelyMe** : The guys give me a lot of shit for it, but whatever.

**Mister_Cellophane** : :)

**Mister_Cellophane** : So, any news on your discharge date yet?

**SincerelyMe** : Not yet. It'll definitely be by the end of the summer though. I can't wait. I need to get off this fucking base. And out of the South.

**SincerelyMe** : I don't think I regret joining the Army, but shit, am I glad to be almost done. It'll be weird, though. All my friends are here. I don't talk with anyone from high school anymore and it's been too long to try getting back in touch. It's been almost nine years.

**Mister_Cellophane** : You can meet my friends. I don't have many but the few I do I wouldn't trade for anything. I think you'd get along.

**Mister_Cellophane** : One of them is an anarchist though so you would never be able to talk about politics ever. He's a cool guy though. Respectful.

**SincerelyMe** : An anarchist? Seriously?

**Mister_Cellophane** : When you hang out in the punk scene you'll run into them eventually. It's inevitable.

 

Annie's window dinged again. Brett switched back.

 

**LuvYaTomorrow** : hey! where did you go?

**Mister_Cellophane** : Sorry! My cousin just came on and I haven't talked to him in a while.

**LuvYaTomorrow** : the army one? he's cuuuuute.

**Mister_Cellophane** : I'll pass that along.

**LuvYaTomorrow** : what? noooo! no don't say that!

**LuvYaTomorrow** : well i'll let you go then so you can talk to him. i know you haven't been able to recently and you have to figure out what he's doing when he comes home! have a good night.

**Mister_Cellophane** : You too.

**Mister_Cellophane** : And thanks again.

**LuvYaTomorrow** : :3

_User LuvYaTomorrow has disconnected_

 

He pulled up Darcey's window again, closing Annie's so it didn't clutter up his desktop.

 

**Mister_Cellophane** : I just finished talking with Annie and she thinks you're cute, by the way. Just passing that on.

**SincerelyMe** : What?

**SincerelyMe** : I don't think someone has called me cute since I was in middle school.

**SincerelyMe** : Well, tell her thanks, I guess?

**Mister_Cellophane** : Will do.

**SincerelyMe** : So how's school going? Have you found a new job yet? Last we talked you mentioned you were thinking about looking for something else.

**Mister_Cellophane** : I hate school. I hate my job. I hate my life.

**SincerelyMe** : Wait. Back up. Brett, what's going on?

 

Brett rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. He didn't want to complain. He didn't want to worry anyone. But oh, God, it would feel so good to get it out. Darcey wouldn't judge him. They weren't just cousins. They were friends.

 

**Mister_Cellophane** : Well, my job is in fast food so of course I hate it. I've been there about a year and I work myself to the bone but still no raise or promotion or even freaking employee of the month. Nothing. Not even paid sick time or vacation days. No insurance. I'm still on my dad's plan for now, thank G-d. Jack. Shit.

**SincerelyMe** : Shit, that really sucks. I'm sorry.

**Mister_Cellophane** : And, I mean, how did I even end up in pre-med and how did I even get this far? What happened? When I graduated high school I was going to go into theatre and then… what, now I'm going to be a doctor? How? Why? What the hell am I doing? But now I'm over halfway through my junior year and it's too late to turn back.

**SincerelyMe** : Is it, though?

**Mister_Cellophane** : What?

 

Brett paused, staring at the message at the bottom of the window.

 

_SincerelyMe is typing …_

**SincerelyMe** : You really can't go back and start over? It's absolutely impossible?

**Mister_Cellophane** : Well…no? But it would be really stupid.

**SincerelyMe** : Are you willing to make a stupid decision if it means you won't be miserable for the rest of your life?

**Mister_Cellophane** : Darcey, these are what we call "leading questions."

**SincerelyMe** : Okay. Fine. I'll just say this, then: I have done, and not done, so many things that I regret, and I'm not even thirty yet. My entire life is one long string of mistakes and fuckups. Some turned out terrible, some turned out okay.

**SincerelyMe** : But I know you, Brett, and I know that this is one of those mistakes that won't turn out okay. I know how important it is for you to take care of the family. I know we don't have money. My family had to live paycheck to paycheck, too. I know how much it sucks.

**SincerelyMe** : But hating your life and hating yourself because you have nobody else to blame for how it turned out is worse. You're on a scholarship right now, right? That covers until the end of this term?

**Mister_Cellophane** : Yeah?

**SincerelyMe** : So start back from the beginning next year. You've lost the schooling, yeah, but at least you won't have any debt. You got one near full ride. You can get another one. You're smart and you're talented. Start looking now. And if what you say about your job is true you should have no problem getting government grants through the FAFSA. You can probably put at least some of these classes toward a new major, right?

**Mister_Cellophane** : Yeah. English, math, sciences. Got enough credits there to cover me forever. Humanities. A couple of terms of French.

 

He paused, hands hovering over the keyboard, eyes darting back and forth across the simple line of text. _Oh man. Oh_ _ **man**_.

 

**Mister_Cellophane** : Shit, Darcey, I actually probably have my entire first two years done already. I can go right into my actual major.

**Mister_Cellophane** : I'll probably be a waiter at some crappy diner for the rest of my life, but.

**SincerelyMe** : You'd be surprised how much easier it is having a shitty job when you're doing it so you can support something you really love.

**Mister_Cellophane** : I'm really glad I know you, Darcey. I'm really lucky we somehow ended up related because I'm pretty sure otherwise we'd have never met. And you're awesome so that would have been shitty.

**SincerelyMe** : Well. I just want you to be happy, Brett. I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did. I'm working on fixing it, but I wasted a fuckload of time getting there. Once I have my GI Bill released and can get into culinary school, I'll finally have myself back on track.

**SincerelyMe** : Don't wait like I did.

**Mister_Cellophane** : Darcey.

**Mister_Cellophane** : You are the best.

**SincerelyMe** : Nah. Just doing my job as the oldest kid. Making sure the rest of you don't fuck up like I did.

**SincerelyMe** : Seriously, though, think about it. Are you doing okay with money?

**Mister_Cellophane** : I guess. Things are tight but I can pay all my bills.

**SincerelyMe** : Okay. Well, if you need help, let me know, okay? I basically live here for free so I have more than enough saved up to send you a couple hundred if you need it.

**Mister_Cellophane** : I'll let you know. Thank you.

**Mister_Cellophane** : How are you doing? Are you sleeping any better?

**SincerelyMe** : Let's not talk about that right now.

 

Brett frowned. That meant he didn't want to think about it, which meant it was still a problem. Which meant it might be getting worse. But it was impossible to worm into Darcey's brain once he shut down.

 

**Mister_Cellophane** : Well. Okay. But take care of yourself, all right? I know things have been really rough on you since you got back from Afghanistan. Don't be afraid to ask for help if you need it.

**SincerelyMe** : Don't worry about me. I'm fine.

**SincerelyMe** : So, what's going on in music there right now? You've got to keep me updated with these things so I know what's up when I get back.

 

They talked for hours, pausing only for a short while when Darcey got off work and made his trip back to his apartment. Brett talked about getting back into theatre and about how he'd probably have to move to another state after he graduated if he ever wanted to be successful. Darcey talked about going to culinary school in New York. Maybe they could find a place together, he said, depending on where everything ended up being located and what the commute was like. Or maybe he could go out ahead and set up and Brett could follow when he finished school.

There were a lot of maybes. But maybe meant opportunity. Maybe meant having the chance to do what he'd always wanted.

Maybe meant he might have to leave Justin behind.

But that was two years in the future, at least. Surely he'd get over this crush by then.

But it was starting to not feel so much like a crush anymore. It was starting to feel like something a lot more serious. He didn't mention it to Darcey. Brett loved him, he trusted him, but he wasn't sure his cousin would understand.

He put his hand over his mouth and took a deep breath.


	7. Chapter 7

Friday nights were the only times Justin ever wished he could get drunk. Alcohol wasn't something he thought about much, but the few gay clubs that were open to him always seemed like they would be so much more fun if he could get even just a little tipsy. But they banded wrists when they checked ID at the door, under and over twenty-one.

He didn't want to get drunk because it was unpleasant. It was the opposite: he _loved_ it here. It was the only place outside of Pride events that he could be open, where he didn't have to censor himself or his actions. He could flirt, he could dance, he didn't have to put up pretenses, and best of all, "straight" wasn't the go-to assumption, what was normal. _He_ was normal here.

It was just, the nights when he was hung up about other things would be better if he could let himself a little more loose. Ah, well. He was almost twenty. After that, just one more year. At least this way anyone he went with always had a designated driver so nobody could do anything stupid.

Justin hadn't seen Sergio, yet, but if he said he'd be there at 7:00, he was there at 7:00. He'd only just walked in, so he had time to track his friend down.

Even though he couldn't drink, Justin was up at the bar anyway, snacking on fried mushrooms as his eyes darted around the club. Sergio was right, the guys had gotten hotter since they were last there together in January. An especially attractive brunette on the other side of the club kept catching eyes with him. Maybe he could finally get rid of Lawrence.

_Yeah, but if he's not Brett, who cares?_

Justin pulled his eyes away and glanced toward the other side of the bar. They were getting the stage ready for the drag show. It started at 10:00, so there was still plenty of time to hang around and make his way over.

He took a sip of his water and nearly spit it out when a heavy hand whacked him between the shoulder blades. When he looked to his right, Sergio was leaning back against the bar, one hand on his forearm, loose and familiar. He grinned.

"Hey, bro! I'm glad you could come out tonight. We've missed you."

_We_ probably meant him and Rocky. Maybe some of the drag queens.

"Yeah," Justin grinned. "Just, you know, school's eaten my life. I'm glad I could get away for a while."

Sergio hummed in agreement and nodded. Justin's eyes darted over him, taking him in, because it had been so long and Justin had _missed_ him. He was dressed impeccably, like always. The clean lines of his perfectly tailored jeans, crisp folds of a white shirt that fell just right, unbuttoned at the collar, just showing the top of the chest piece inked into his tawny brown skin. His hair was also perfect, as always, combed and fluffed into an Afro. When Justin had originally asked how Sergio got his hair to do that - after months of friendship, which Justin hoped made the question acceptable - his ex-boyfriend had laughed and said, "Genes, bro! I'm only half Cuban. I'm a sexy-ass Afro-Latino. You wouldn't know because you're terrified of parents."

He was nothing like Justin. Justin threw on clean jeans and a t-shirt every morning and hoped he looked okay. Sergio's dress was always flawless.

Justin's gaze wandered back to the man he'd been watching. Sergio's eyes followed and he turned to Justin with a half-smile. "You got your eyes on someone tonight?" he asked, nodding his head in the man's direction.

"The brunette guy with the big shoulders and they shy smile?" Justin affirmed. "Hell yes."

Sergio watched the other man critically for a moment before humming and nodding in approval. "You always did have really good taste," he said. "I mean, hey." He gestured at himself, then leaned back against the bar again, his arm pressed up against Justin's. "I take it that means you aren't seeing anyone right now?"

Justin shook his head.

"What about that Brett guy?"

"I don't want to talk about that right now."

Sergio raised an eyebrow. "Do I need to be upset about something? Because you know I'm always down to cut a bitch."

Justin laughed and shook his head. "No, no. Just the normal woes of obsessing over a straight guy."

Sergio sighed and rolled his eyes, flopping an arm over Justin's shoulder. "I feel you." Then, suddenly, his hand was on Justin's sleeve, finger hooked in his shirt collar as he tugged it to the side. Justin jerked away.

"What the Hell are you doing?"

Sergio raised an eyebrow and pressed his thumb into the hickey on Justin's shoulder. Justin flinched at the brief twinge of pain. Sergio laughed.

"Not seeing anyone? Really?"

"Really. One night stand I probably won't be seeing again." It was only a little lie. He was too embarrassed to admit he let anyone treat him the way Lawrence did.

Sergio flinched. "That bad?"

"Not in bed. But he was an asshole."

"But he was really hot so you thought you could look past it, right?"

Justin chuckled and shook his head.

"Yeah. I have terrible judgment."

"Clearly." Sergio hummed softly and looked out at the sea of people on the dance floor. "You know, sometimes I miss being single, but then I see your train wreck of a dating life and think, maybe monogamy's not so bad."

Justin snorted and rolled his eyes, but didn't respond. Sergio pushed his drink to the side and grabbed his hand, pulling him away from his now empty plate.

"Come on, we've still got music for a couple of hours. Dance with me! Let's show you off to that guy you've been watching."

Justin had changed a lot since his first time coming out to a place like this. His first time there, he'd spent the entire time cowering in the corner, paralyzed with fear, and he would have stayed there alone all night if Sergio hadn't noticed him and pulled him out on the dance floor. His whole life, he'd been "that gay guy in my class" or "my gay friend Justin" or worse, "hey, faggot!" with the exception of Nate and Nora, where he was just "my best friend," and "my brother." And then, suddenly, there was a space he wasn't the minority. Where everyone was like him and nobody questioned it or made him feel inferior. Where nobody assumed he was straight and then panicked when they learned he wasn't.

Where he could flirt in the open, instead of locked behind bedroom and locker room doors, fumbling around, awkwardly experimenting with whispered pleas of "please don't tell anyone about this," praying they were quiet enough not to draw attention.

He wasn't just dancing and partying, he was letting out all the stress he'd been forced to build up and keep quiet his entire life. He was letting go.

The music was a nonstop mix, so Justin didn't know how many songs they had danced through, but eventually Sergio somehow managed to squeeze him through the writhing bodies on the dance floor and over into the corner where the guy he'd been watching was standing with a few friends. One of them, tall and blond, tapped Justin's shoulder, and when Justin glanced up, the man grinned and gestured him over. Sergio gently nudged Justin's hip in their direction and danced off to find another dance partner, or maybe his boyfriend. Justin didn't know. Their relationship was so open it could have been either.

When Justin got close, the blond man leaned down to speak in his ear. "My friend here's been watching you all night. He thinks you have a great ass."

Justin laughed, and when he turned to the brunette, the other man's face was bright red, but he was smiling. He offered his hand to shake. "Justin," he said.

"Drew." He was even more attractive up close. He was _cute_. Justin hadn't used that word to describe another man in a long time, but Drew was the poster boy for corn-fed middle American boys: clean-shaven, baby-faced, with a broad smile and even broader shoulders. Justin was about to ask him if he'd been there on a Friday before when it suddenly ripped through the club: the most horrifying, alienating sound in the world.

"Hey, girls, the fag-hags are here!"

The shift was palpable. There were only four of them standing in a small circle, but the same question was written on all of their faces. _What the fuck are they doing here_? Queer women wouldn't talk like that. Was this a straight bachelorette party?

Drew frowned and shifted, stuffing his hands in his pockets and focusing on his feet. When Justin put his hand on the shorter man's arm and leaned in to ask if he was all right, he jerked back so hard he nearly hit the wall.

He was probably just out of the closet. This might have been his first time out to a safe space since then. And now some straight bachelorette party was barging in on it. Suddenly what had been casual attraction shifted to fierce protectiveness, not for Drew, specifically, but for his community in general. They could go anywhere, literally to any bar they wanted, and they had to come here? There were only a handful of gay clubs to begin with.

"I don't know why they even let these people in," the blond man muttered. Justin left him and his other friend with Drew, because clearly, any potential moment was over and he wasn't comfortable with Justin being around anymore. He pulled out of earshot to give them some privacy and his eyes raked the club for Sergio, silently praying, _please, please still be here, where are you?_ even though he hadn't left yet because he'd been drinking. Justin was his ride home, and Sergio wasn't an idiot.

Justin hesitantly called out for him, not loud enough to be heard far away, just over the music in the close area. Most everyone was still doing what they were doing, dancing and drinking and flirting, but a lot of them were side-eyeing the women who had overtaken the bar. _Oh, God, did that one seriously just ask if she could take a picture of that couple kissing? What do you think we are, zoo animals?_

Justin slowly circled his way around the dance floor, because suddenly he wasn't okay here by himself anymore. Suddenly he needed his friends, and Rocky was probably back helping set up for the drag show later, which left Sergio, who had to be nearby, he _had_ to -

Then Justin spotted him at the edge of the bar, chatting with a tall blond guy with clunky black glasses and a grey and black spotted tie. Neither of them looked too invested, so Justin casually butted his way into the conversation with a "Hey man," and a nod.

Sergio gave him a quizzical look. "What happened with -"

Justin's eyes darted over to the women at the bar. Sergio's jaw tightened. "That sucks." He sighed and rolled his eyes. "They've been coming around more than they used to," he said. "Honestly, I'm trying to convince Rocky to just ban bachelorette parties because this is bullshit, but he doesn't want to ban queer women who might have one and banning one and not the other could get him sued."

"Just try to ignore it," Justin said. The blond guy excused himself from the conversation. Sergio sighed, eyes trailing after him for a moment before he turned back to his friend.

"Sorry," Justin muttered.

"It's okay," Sergio shrugged. "He was cute, but not very interesting. Rocky doesn't like to share, anyway. Look all you want, but don't touch, you know?"

Justin leaned back against the wall, each hand gripping the opposite elbow so tightly it strained his wrists. Sergio leaned into him, hand pressed beside his head against the wall, and whispered, "It's okay. The bouncers have been letting hets in more frequently but they aren't afraid to kick them out if they start shit. They'll probably just stay for the drag show and move on."

Justin glanced over and muttered, "Yeah, you're probably right. But this time, if I even hear someone _think_ the fucking t-word, I am going to lose my shit." Slurs against anyone in his community had always infuriated him, the fact that most of these people didn't know the difference between a drag queen and a trans woman infuriated him, but now that his sister had come out to him, he had a little extra rage to dish out, and he was not going to hold his tongue just because he might hurt someone's feelings.

"Don't even worry," Sergio said. He nudged his forehead against Justin's before pulling back to a more respectable distance. "They don't put up with that shit here anymore. Things have gotten better since the last incident."

"Honestly," Justin whispered, "I think I'd rather deal with homophobic men than these fucking bachelorette fag hags. At least you can punch a guy who's being an asshole. But these people just fetishize us and it makes me feel fucking gross."

It was too simplistic a word for a feeling so intense and complicated. It made his skin crawl. It made him feel less than, but not in the way his parents did while he was growing up. It made him feel judged, but not in the same way the Church did. It left an awful taste in his mouth and an uncomfortable, cold sheen of sweat on his palms. It left his stomach with a woozy, queasy feeling that wasn't quite nausea but was just as unpleasant.

"I'm going outside."

Sergio leaned back as Justin pushed himself away from the wall, his eyes worried, but he didn't stop his friend when he walked past toward the door. The place was packed. He might not be able to get back in right away. Sergio would be really upset if they couldn't watch the show together.

There was always next Friday.

Justin had only smoked twice in his life, but suddenly he really, really needed a cigarette. There was a small group of men nearby, talking and laughing. Two of them were smoking. He could probably ask, but he shouldn't. If he wanted to keep up with his running schedule to stay in shape, the last thing he needed was a smoking habit.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. He'd never turned the sound back on after getting out of class, so it was flooded with text messages, mostly from Brett. Justin scrolled through them, one by one, in the order they were sent, while he chewed on his lip because there was nothing else for his mouth to do.

_3:15 PM: I aced my test!_

_5:26 PM: Pocket Monster is playing tomorrow at The Brick House, do you want to go with me?_

_8:09 PM: Justin, it's official, I've gone crazy. I'm dropping pre-med at the end of the semester and starting over with theatre performance because I am a crazy person. Looking into scholarships right now._

_8:13 PM: I'm thinking of moving to New York City or Chicago because there are no opportunities here, but if that happens it won't be for minimum 2-4 years, probably even longer._

_8:26 PM: If I mvoe will you come with me? I'll miss you if you dnot_

_8:27 PM: its possbily I'm a little drnuk right noe because I don't know how else to cope with the fact that my life is unravelling_

_8:27 PM: I'm the worse friend ever I'm sorry_

_8:28 PM: You're the bst Justin you only derserve all the good things. I'm sorry you've had such a shitty time so far. I wish I could fix it._

_8:29 PM: Oh G-d. I'm that guy. Justin_ _I'm That Guy right now. The obnoxus one who drunk texts his friends. Shit I'm so sorry._

Then they stopped. Justin's eyes darted over to the clock in the corner. 9:30. It had been an hour and nothing? No text, no call? His thumbs flew over the keypad faster than he'd ever moved for anything.

_brett, where are you right now?_

He sent off another quick one to Sergio.

_i have to go. i'm sorry. i can give you cab fare if you need it to get home. let me know asap. i have to get going._

Nothing from Brett yet. Justin dialed his number. The phone was hot in his hand, slick against his cheek, and even though it was only in the low 70s he was still sure he was about to pass out from heat exhaustion. It went to voicemail. He dialed again.

Brett's voice was thick and slurred and a little annoyed when he answered, "H'lo?"

"Brett, thank God." The air rushed out of Justin's lungs like he'd just surfaced from the ocean. "Are you okay? I just got all of your texts. Where are you?"

"Oh, shit." Brett's voice was soft and shaky and he sounded like he was about to break down. Justin bit his lip. _Dammit, I should have pushed when he mentioned his classes the other night._ He should have had more of a conversation in the car. Invited him in the house to talk about it before he went home. Listened better. _Something_.

"'M so sorry, Justin. I'm an asshole."

"No." Justin's voice was firm. "No. You're going through a lot of shit right now. Where are you?"

"Home," Brett groaned. Justin could almost see him rubbing his eyes in that way he did when he was stressed. "I'd never drive if I'd been drinking. I don't think I'm that drunk? But even so. I'm stupid, but not that stupid."

"I thought you didn't drink?"

Brett had never condemned alcohol, but Justin had never seen him consume it, either. Either way, it didn't matter. _I just need to figure out what the Hell is going on._

'I don't," Brett answered. "Except holidays. But I had a bottle of red wine I bought for a stew that I never made. Killed it."

"You drank a whole bottle of wine and you don't think you're 'that drunk'?"

"I told you, I'm stupid."

"Stop saying that." Justin's voice was tight in his chest and his throat. He kept checking his screen for a new message from Sergio while trying to keep the conversation from lulling. It took focused force to keep his hands from trembling. His mouth was so dry he could barely speak properly. "I'm on my way, okay? I just have to track down my friend and make sure he can get home and then I'm coming over, all right?"

"No, you don't have to -"

"I know." Suddenly Jusitin's voice was soft, gentle. God, he wished more than anything that Brett were here or he were there, just that they were together, because he needed to see Brett to be sure he was okay. Words over the phone weren't enough. "I'm coming over. Stay where you are."

"Okay."

Justin's phone beeped. "Hang on a second."

It was a text from Sergio.

_I'm fine. Go. Get back in touch when it's taken care of so I know you're okay._

Justin's steps were long and quick, just shy of a jog. "I'm on my way back to my car," he said. "I'm out in the gay district so it's going to take me about twenty minutes. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah." Brett's voice was soft, sad, resigned. "M'sorry, Justin. I don't even know what the hell I'm doing anymore. I'm just a fucking mess."

"It's okay." He needed to be calm, reassuring, but he was barely holding back a panic attack of his own because Brett needed him, Brett _had_ needed him, and Justin had been too wrapped up in his stupid, infantile crush to notice how much he'd been hurting. Brett was coherent enough to have a relatively clear conversation, which meant he wasn't going to black out. Justin wasn't worried much about Brett's physical wellbeing, other than the hangover he'd have in the morning. He was more worried about whatever was going on in Brett's head.

"Will you be okay for the next twenty minutes or so or do you need me to stay on the phone?"

"Can I call if I need to?" Brett asked. The question was hesitant, almost afraid.

"Yeah, of course."

"Then I'll be okay. I think. I promise I'll call if I'm not."

"Okay. I'll see you soon."

Justin hung up and slid his phone in his pocket as he approached his car. Traffic was clear, thankfully, because everyone was either at home or out partying and not on their way to either, so it only took the minimum amount of time to get back to Brett's.

When Justin got up to the second floor and down the hall, Brett didn't answer his knock right away. He knocked again. Again. He was about to call his friend and had decided he as going to call 911 if he didn't answer when the door finally creaked open.

Brett was rubbing his forehead. His hair was a frizzy, fluffy mess, and his black and blue ringed eyes squinted through the bright light of the hallway. He smiled, maybe, but Justin wasn't sure anything that sad had any right to be called a smile.

"Hey," Justin whispered.

"Hey," Brett whispered back.

They stood there silently for a moment before Justin asked, "Can I come in?"

Brett gave his back and shoulders a quick shake as he stepped to the side, as if he was trying to shake some sense back into himself. "Sorry. Yeah. Come in." He flicked on the light as Justin stepped inside, but when he flinched, Justin flipped it back off again.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I'll adjust. Your lava lamp is enough."

Bret nodded and turned around, rubbing at the back of his neck as he walked back to his bed. His steps were steady and he only wobbled a little. _And he killed a whole bottle of wine? He can really hold his alcohol._

Justin glanced around the apartment, for what, he wasn't sure. Just in case. The printer was overflowing with paperwork and there was more scattered around the desk. Scholarship applications?

When Justin turned back to Brett, he was lying on the bed, his hands on his stomach, staring at the ceiling. Brett's silence worried him. At least if Brett were screaming, or crying, or _something_ , Justin would know what he was thinking. Justin gingerly sat down beside him, and when Brett made no move to push away, Justin laid down, mimicking his position. Their arms barely touched just above the elbow.

"Talk to me," Justin whispered. "What's going on?"

Brett was silent for a few very long minutes, but Justin didn't push. Yet. But he wasn't going to step foot outside the apartment until he knew Brett had some kind of game plan to get back on track. Finally, Brett whispered,

"All my life, I've done what everyone's expected of me. High school was shit, yeah, but at least I had the theatre. The only time I was really happy was when I was onstage. But then, you know, high school ended and I had to get serious, right? Find a real career. Do something with my life. But for…" He paused, covering his face with his hands. He took in a deep, shuddering breath. "But for what? Why? What's the point? I mean, yeah, if I stick with medical then I can pay off my debts faster. And I can be miserable. And I can hate myself because there would be nobody to blame for where I was but me."

Justin listened quietly. He nudged his elbow against Brett's, silently letting his friend know he was there.

"And… maybe it's stupid. Maybe it's the stupidest thing I've ever done. But I can't… _fuck_." He rolled over to look at Justin, and the lost expression on his face nearly tore the younger man's heart in half. "I mean, I have to take care of myself, too, right? Or I can't help anyone else? Isn't that what everyone's always saying? If I keep going with medical I'll probably become one of those weekend junkies that shoots up every Saturday night so I can deal with the rest of the week without killing myself. And that thought's _terrifying_."

Justin rolled onto his side, his eyes darting over Brett's face. The way Brett looked at him _killed_ him, because he needed an answer and Justin didn't have one.

He started to lift his hand to brush Brett's hair out of his eyes, to touch his knuckle against his face, but he couldn't. Brett was too vulnerable. Maybe if he were sober, or if the problem weren't so major, it would be an okay way to comfort him. But not right now.

Justin dropped his hand back to his hip.

"You have to put yourself first," he finally murmured. "I know it sounds like the most selfish thing you've ever heard, but if I've learned _anything_ , it's that you have to make yourself the most important person in your life. Your well-being comes first. Your happiness, your safety. Those are the most important things. Everything else comes later."

And then Brett's hand was on his cheek and their foreheads were pressed together and the intimacy of the touch almost knocked the breath out of Justin. It was completely innocent. There was nothing romantic or sexual about it. But that touch made Justin feel closer to Brett than he'd ever felt to anyone else.

"Thanks, Justin," Brett whispered.

"Yeah," he whispered back.

When he put his hand on top of Brett's his friend didn't pull away.

Not long after, Brett fell asleep. Justin stayed where he was, watching him. Then his phone went off. He pulled it out of his pocket, figuring it was Sergio checking up or Nate asking when he was coming home.

It was neither. It was Lawrence.

_The firefighter you stood up decided he wants to see me again. Exclusively. So no need to call anymore, I'm done with you. Sry babe xoxo_

Justin's jaw and fingers tightened. He glanced back up at Brett. The older man was so quiet. His eyebrows were drawn, even in sleep, and Justin wished he could do something to take it away.

He deleted the text. He deleted Lawrence's phone number. And when he got up again, he'd go to Brett's computer and delete his email address, too.

He deserved better. Nate was right. It was better to have holes than to try to fill them with people who treated him like trash.

His hand fell limp at his side, fingers still loosely curled around his phone.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He knew Brett couldn't hear him. He wouldn't even understand the apology if he could.

"You deserve better than me, anyway."


	8. Chapter 8

Brett had never felt as terrible as he did when he woke up on Saturday morning. The sun wasn't up yet. His head was pounding and sharp pains like ice picks shot through his eyes and temples and he was afraid if he moved he was going to vomit, but eventually he had to.

When he kicked his feet off the bed, his heel bumped something warm. He looked down.

Justin was asleep on the floor, one arm curled under his cheek and the other slung loosely over his side. He was snoring very softly, and for some reason that surprised Brett. He'd always thought Justin would be a silent sleeper.

Brett slowly pushed himself out of bed, careful not to trip over his friend, and went to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. Even the sound of running water hurt and the friction of the bristles on his teeth felt like knives in his temples.

When he went back into the main room, he knelt carefully beside Justin, slowly lowering himself with the help of the bed so he wouldn't overbalance and fall. Gently, he nudged his friend's shoulder. He didn't budge. So Brett tried again, whispering, "Hey, Justin. Hey."

After a few more tries, each more insistent than the last, Justin's eyes fluttered open. They darted around a moment before settling back on Brett. He had a weird expression on his face that Brett couldn't place.

"Thanks for coming over last night," he said. "I'm sorry."

Justin shook his head as he sat up, leaning back against the bed. "Don't be. How are you doing?"

"Better." Brett shrugged. "Not great. But better." He looked up at the bed, back at Justin's face again. "If you want to sleep a little more, you can take the bed. I'm up."

Justin shook his head again. "I'm awake now." Thankfully he kept his voice soft. He could see the headache written in the lines of Brett's face. Brett shifted uncomfortably and Justin stood, offering him a hand. He wrapped his arm around Brett's and pulled him up.

And then Brett saw it, just peeking out from underneath Justin's shirt collar, the barest edge of a smudge of bluish-purple against his tanned skin. A hickey.

_Is he seeing someone I don't know about?_ Suddenly, Brett's throat tightened and the air rushed out of him like he'd been kicked in the chest. The back of his neck went cold and clammy and his nose went hot and painfully prickly. He didn't mean to say it, but he squeaked, "Justin, is that…?" and he gestured vaguely at his own shoulder, just where the mark on Justin's was.

Why did that hurt so much? And why did it make him so _angry_? Knowing somebody _else_ was biting his neck, probably kissing him, probably a lot _more_ -

Justin's face paled, everything except his ears, which burned bright pink. He pulled his collar closer to his neck. His adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed and he looked away, ashamed to meet Brett's eyes.

"It's not important," he said softly. "I mean, it doesn't matter. I'm not seeing him anymore and it wasn't anything serious to begin with. It wasn't even dating, really. Just a string of one-night stands, I guess."

Brett's fingers curled into his palms and he swallowed. What was his head doing? It was obvious Justin felt bad about it and _that_ made him angry, too, that whoever this guy was made him feel like he had to be ashamed, and all Brett could think was, _I would never, I would treat him right, I would take care of him and do whatever it took to make him realize how special he is, every single day if I had to._ And he meant it so adamantly that he couldn't find the energy to fight with himself about it.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked. His voice was soft, and, he hoped, free of blame, because he wasn't mad at Justin. Never.

Justin nodded. "It's over now. I deleted his number and email so I can't even contact him if I want to. Which I really don't." He chuckled, but there was something dark in it, something Brett had never heard come out of his friend's mouth that almost scared him. He didn't like this evasiveness, this vagueness, because it was almost like Justin was trying to hide an -

_Oh, fuck_.

"Justin, did he -"

The taller man finally looked back up again and held a hand up, though the other still kept his shirt tugged over the mark on his shoulder. "No, no, nothing like that," he said quickly. "He was just an asshole. He never tried to hit me or anything. It was nothing close to abusive. He was just a dick."

Brett's shoulders relaxed, and even though it was still thin and painful, his breath came back. "Okay," he said. "Good." He paused awkwardly, then stammered, "Well, not good that he was a jerk, I mean, but that it wasn't -"

"I know what you mean." Justin's smile finally started to come back, small, but honest, and Brett's smile was a little shaky, but at least it was there.

"Come here," he whispered, and he stepped right up into Justin, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close, both hands tight in the back of his shirt. Justin's breath caught and he stilled. Brett was about to pull away when his friend curled his arms back around him and tugged him in closer.

They stood there, curled into each other, for a long time. Eventually Brett sank into Justin, his arms relaxing and his eyes about to close -

He pulled away, slowly, deliberately, careful not to move too fast or make Justin think he did something wrong. But he didn't move far, and Justin's hand lingered on his arm a little longer than necessary, but it had to have been an accident, right? Brett knew now, for sure, that Justin wasn't interested in him, because if he were he wouldn't have been sleeping with some other guy.

They stood awkwardly for a moment. Eventually, Brett broke the silence by asking, "Do you work today?"

"Yeah," Justin said. "But it's the afternoon shift today. Saturday. So, you know, no classes, so…" He trailed off, curling his arms over his abdomen. His unsureness made Brett nervous in a way he couldn't place.

"When?" he asked. "Maybe we could go get breakfast somewhere."

There was something weird about his Justin's smile when he said, "Yeah, okay. I don't start until one, so that'd be okay. I mean." He sighed and his left hand tightened on his right elbow. "I'd like that."

"I'm sorry," Brett suddenly blurted. "I'm sorry," he repeated, a little softer. More controlled. _It's my fault he feels awkward. I shouldn't have pointed out the mark on his shoulder_.

There were a lot of things he both should and shouldn't have done.

Justin shook his head. "Don't be. You didn't do anything wrong. It was my stupid decision and my stupid mistake. But I've taken care of it. Things are… things are okay now."

"Do you want to borrow a clean shirt?" It was a stupid question and an abrupt change of subject, but Brett didn't know what else to say. He hated this awkwardness, this distance. Justin was one of his best friends. He'd always been one of the most important people in the world to Brett, even before this crush, or infatuation, or attraction or whatever it was. If that changed, Brett he didn't know what he would do.

Justin smiled, a small, grateful half-smile. "Yeah, that would be awesome. Thanks."

"You're a large, right?" Brett opened the second drawer in his dresser.

"Yeah."

"Okay." Brett was a medium, but he had some bigger shirts that were gifts and hand-me-downs. With a little digging, he found two, one solid red t-shirt and a green polo with a blue stripe across the chest. He tossed them both and Justin caught them, examining them both before putting them down on the bed. He pulled his shirt off. Brett averted his gaze, mostly, but he could still see Justin from the corner of his vision, the flex of the muscle of his abdomen and arms, the barest of tan lines over his shoulders. The way he normally dressed hid his athletic build, but when his shirt was off, it _showed._ He wasn't bulky, but lean, built like the track star he'd been in high school.

Brett looked down at his feet as Justin pulled the polo on. He swallowed when the taller man pulled it down over his abdomen, resting just above his hip.

"It's a little short," he said. "But it fits okay."

_God, it fits perfectly_ , Brett thought. It clung in all the right places and fell loose exactly where it should and something about the fact that it was _his_ and fit him like that made his stomach wrench in an unfamiliar but not entirely unpleasant way.

"Awesome," he said. His voice caught, but if Justin noticed, he didn't mention it. Both of them fell silent again. Justin scratched the back of his head and yawned, wide and loud.

"Is there anywhere that even sells vegan breakfast food? Or that's open this early?" Brett didn't know what time it was, but it was before six if the sun wasn't up yet.

Justin rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling, trained on something Brett couldn't see as he thought. "I don't think so, really," he finally said. "There are lunch and dinner spots, but nothing for breakfast or brunch. There are just diners."

"I guess… is Denny's okay, then? At least we know they're open."

Justin shrugged one shoulder and looked back down at Brett. He opened his mouth, hesitated, closed it again.

"What?"

"Is it cool if we go to the one on Camelback?"

"In the gay district? Yeah, sure."

His shoulders relaxed. So did his expression. "Thanks. I've just… last night I had my fill of straight people. I need a break." He paused, eyes darting over Brett's face. "I mean, no offense. Shit. Sorry. I mean."

_You could come out to him right now. This is the perfect opportunity._

But all Brett said was, "Don't apologize. It's fine." He walked over to the kitchen area to pull a glass of water and pop a few aspirin before they went. Hopefully they could get there before sunrise. Hopefully Justin would be willing to drive so he didn't have to keep his eyes open. "Did something happen last night before you came over?"

Justin sighed and started pulling on his shoes. "Straight bachelorette party in a gay club. Because it's not enough that they have everything everywhere and anywhere they want it, they have to stick their noses into our spaces and rub in the fact that we don't."

"People really do that?" Brett asked incredulously. He swallowed three aspirin and the rest of the water before turning back around. "Why would someone think that's okay?"

Justin sighed again. "I mean, I get that they don't want drunk guys hitting on them and shit. But… I mean, seriously. Go away. Leave us alone. I am not your fucking accessory or a cute animal behind a pane of glass for you to take a picture of. Just leave me alone. You know?" He paused and glanced over Brett's face. Suddenly, he looked very sad. Tired. "I guess you don't," he murmured. His voice wasn't accusatory, but the words still cut.

_Come on, Brett, opportunity number two._

But, again, all he said was, "Jeez, that sucks. I didn't realize people did stuff like that. I'm sorry."

Justin's smile was almost defeated. It made Brett hate himself, because his friend had been brave enough to come out when he was just thirteen, knowing how his family and Church would react. He'd been fighting and forcing his way through life since then, and even though he got tired, even though he got frustrated, he never seemed to see closeting himself as an option.

_Not like me._ Hiding like a coward, cringing away from anything that might hint at his sexuality, apologizing every time he had an opinion that might upset someone. Hiding behind the fact that he'd only dated women, as if that somehow made him straight. Letting everyone think their assumption that he was was right.

A sudden, overwhelming wave of affection crashed over him, completely different from anything he'd felt for Justin up to that point. Different than he'd felt for anyone, ever.

Brett closed the gap between them and pulled Justin into a tight hug. His arms were around the taller man's waist, a little too intimate for 'just friends,' but he hadn't freaked out when Brett put his hand on his face last night, so hopefully this was okay, too. Brett had been drunk then, yes, but if he'd overstepped his bounds, Justin would have told him so.

He was so close to blurting everything out just then, but when he opened his mouth, suddenly his voice stuck as if it were being physically restrained. _I think I'm bi_ , he wanted to say. _I really, really want to be with you,_ he wanted to say. _I care about you as so much more than a friend,_ he wanted to say.

But even though Brett thought it was safe, even though Justin would still be his friend even if he didn't reciprocate, he couldn't, and it was like needles in the back of his throat and burning rocks in his stomach. Why was this so _hard_?

Justin wrapped his arms back around Brett's shoulders and rested his scruffy, bearded chin on top of his head. At this angle, Brett could almost fool himself into thinking that Justin was kissing him.

"Would you be okay with driving?" Brett's voice was muffled in Justin's shirt, but being so close eased the headache, even though it was just a little. Justin nodded.

"Yeah. But we're not leaving the restaurant until you have some kind of plan and I know you're going to be okay."

Brett nodded. Justin's arms tightened around him, warm and protective. He wanted to stay there forever, just like this, because even though he knew there were people who cared about him, with all of his walls, it was hard to get close. They were small, they were thin, but there were so _many_ of them in so many _places_. But Justin made him feel safe like Annie made him feel safe. It wasn't exactly the same, but Brett didn't _want_ it to be. What he'd had with Annie was special and important, but Justin was, too. Brett didn't like him because he was like someone he was once close to. Brett liked Justin because he was… Justin.

He knew he had to say something. He _would_. He'd have to at least come out. But not now. There was too much right now. Once he'd figured out school. Maybe then.

One of Justin's hands was curled in the back of Brett's shirt, the other gently rubbing up and down. The only reason Brett let go at all was because he wouldn't be able to handle being in the car during sunrise. Justin smiled weakly. Brett smiled back and said, "Let's get going?"

"Yeah."

The first five minutes of the drive were quiet. There wasn't much traffic. The yellow glare of the streetlights hurt Brett's head, but not nearly as badly as the sun would. He leaned with his head against the window, flinching at every bump in the road, eyelids heavy and just open enough to see where they were going. Finally, Justin broke the silence.

"You need to figure out what you're going to do next," he murmured. "I'd say 'we', but I feel like that's sort of presumptuous. But I'll definitely help you figure it out. I mean. If you want me to."

"Thank you."

"So, first things first," Justin continued. "The rest of the semester. What's your plan?"

"I'm going to finish my classes and work to get the highest grades I can like I would any others," Brett said. "If I drop or flunk I have to pay back the money for the scholarship and I can't afford that. When it comes to acting, GPA doesn't really mean much, but that doesn't mean I want to let mine slip. I might be crazy but I still take pride in what I do." A small smile spread across his face as he spoke. When he chuckled, it was almost desperate. A little hysterical.

"Okay. Then what?"

"Officially declare my major switch to the school?"

"Then?"

If it were Darcey or Annie or Cass pushing him through this, Brett would have been annoyed. Pressured. Maybe even defensive or angry. But it was different with Justin. It helped him feel a little more in control.

"Well, meanwhile, I guess," he started. "Look for scholarships. I started last night. Apply for grants. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to take out loans, but hopefully not many. I'll do it if I have to, but that's a last resort."

"I saw a bunch of paperwork all over your desk. Is that what that was?"

"Yeah."

"Does it look promising?"

"I think so. It's competitive, but I think I can do it."

"All right," Justin said. "So, that's good."

"And then…" Brett trailed off, eyes scrunching closed when they hit a pothole. They were getting close. The streets in this area were terrible. He leaned his head back against the window and sighed softly.

"And then?" Justin prompted.

"And then when the semester's over and all I have to worry about is work, I'm going to start really looking for a better job. Something above minimum wage. Something where I can get at least basic benefits. Maybe a 'hey, thanks', when I do a good job. Where I can get a day off when I'm scheduled for a day off. Where I can call out if I'm sick."

"There's a new department store opening by the mall by my house in a few months," Justin said. "They specialize in really high end stuff. They might pay better. Worth a shot. I think they're eight or nine an hour?"

"A lot better than $6.75, that's for sure. I'll look it up online when I get back home."

"I assume you don't have work today?"

Brett shook his head. "No, thank God," he said. "I don't think I could handle that kitchen with this hangover. Why did I do this to myself, Justin?" He groaned, but then he chuckled, because even though while it was happening, it was terrifying and felt like the world was ending, now that he was calm and had a plan, it was actually a little funny how out of proportion his reaction to the situation was.

They were silent for a few minutes. When Justin stopped at a traffic light, Brett barely opened his eyes. The next street was their turn.

"You're –" Justin stopped as abruptly as he'd started. Brett slowly turned toward him, squinting in the bright yellow streetlight. Justin was tapping the steering wheel. His wrists were tight with tension.

"I admire you a lot," he finally said. Brett's eyebrows drew together. He was about to ask Justin what he was talking about, but he continued before the older man could open his mouth. "I admire how quickly you can pick yourself back up when you get in a shitty spot like this. How you're not afraid to go after what you want, even if it's hard. I wish I had that kind of drive. I'm doing my best to work on it, but… I always just end up wandering in aimless circles any time I try, because there's too much or too little going on to make a concrete decision. And I always end up putting myself in a spot where it's inevitable that I get fucked over."

Brett blinked heavily and shook his head. The aspirin was kicking in, but he needed coffee and salt before he could really start to feel human again. He was afraid to speak, afraid he'd say something stupid or hurtful by accident because his thoughts were so muddled.

And he definitely wasn't thinking when he said, "Thanks for being my best friend."

Justin turned his head slightly. The expression on his face was amused, the left side of his mouth pulled up just a little higher than the right. He chuckled and shook his head and Brett smiled back, happy, if unsure.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm dumb when I have a hangover."

"It's okay," Justin said. "I'm dumb all the time. I don't even have an excuse."

_No, you're not_. _You're perfect_.

But instead, Brett said, "Well, I'm glad we can be dumb together."

"Yeah." The light changed and Justin looked back to the street again. "Me, too."


	9. Chapter 9

_Oh shit how did this happen?_ Finals were only a month away. It was true Justin wasn't taking the most difficult classes, but he was taking a lot of them, because the advisor at the enrollment center had said that it was the best way to figure out a major.

She was a liar. Almost two years later and he still had no idea what he wanted to study. Nora had suggested it was because he was afraid of failure and letting himself down, which would be inevitable it he chose the wrong thing.

He hated how _right_ she was all the time. But he had until July to figure it out, when he'd have to choose classes based on his declared major. He had to. The school had threatened to kick him out if he didn't.

He hadn't seen Brett in two weeks. He hadn't even seen Nate in three or four days and they _lived_ together. Everyone's faces were stuck in their books and they had no time for anything else.

German, he was fine with. He'd always picked up languages quickly and easily and he just needed to skim his notes to double check a few conjugating rules. It was one of the few things he was able to pick up on with no issue. Psychology was just an intro class, and the final was only going to be multiple choice. Calculus worried him a little because it was so advanced. Minimum four practice problems a day, up to eight when he could fit the extras in.

But physics. Why did he think physics was a good idea?

And why did he think it was a good idea to take alongside intro to ethics?

And why did he think it was a good idea to take queer theory _at all_?

Justin glanced from his study guide over to his computer screen. It was already past eleven and he had work at five in the morning. He sighed and put his notes down on the desk. He needed another break. He's been going for forty-five minutes. Close enough, right? When he blinked, it was slow, and his eyelids nearly stuck together because they were so dry. His insomnia had been bad even before finals started creeping up. Now it was just getting worse.

Even though he was exhausted, he was still wide awake. With a wide yawn and a long stretch, he stood, leaving his room as he rubbed the back of his head.

As he rustled around in the kitchen, soft footsteps came up behind him. "Hey, Nate," he said. He didn't turn around. Didn't they have any snacks that weren't loaded with sugar? Eventually he settled on putting some peanut butter on some crackers.

Nate waited for Justin to turn around. His arms were crossed. He waggled his fingers in a hello. He was almost as worn down as Justin. His smile was weak and there were dark rings under both of his eyes. _You okay?_ he signed. _Studying or insomnia?_

"Little bit of both," Justin said. After he'd filled his plate with peanut butter covered crackers, he took one last knife full of peanut butter and licked it off on its own, a habit he'd had since childhood. His parents always yelled at him, but Nate didn't mind.

Nate smiled softly. _Sorry, that sucks._

Justin shrugged and stuffed a cracker in his mouth.

_But at least you have that bullshit paper for your queer theory class done, right?_

Justin nodded. Even though sometimes it was frustrating, he was grateful that Nate was always so quick to point out the good things of any given situation when he was annoyed or angry about something.

_Okay, it's clear you're not super talkative right now_ , Nate continued. _Is it okay if I ramble at you a little and ask what basically boils down to a few yes-or-no questions?_

Justin shrugged and nodded, silent, but paying attention, as he continued to eat. It wasn't that he didn't want to be there. He just didn't want to have to say anything, because talking required thinking, and he was suddenly much too tired for that.

_This Friday is First Friday_. Justin paused before nodding and turning back around to get a cup for something to drink. Again, Nate waited. The soft tapping of his foot echoed in the tiled kitchen.

"Sorry," Justin said, after he got some tea and turned around. "Go ahead. I'm done."

Nate rolled his eyes, but smirked. _We haven't been in a while and I thought it could be a fun way to blow off some steam before we really have to crack down and get serious with our studying._

"Yeah, that would be cool. We just have to line up our schedules since I have night classes."

_What_ is _your schedule for Fridays?_ Nate asked. _Neither of us has been home much recently so I don't remember_.

"Basically 1:00 to 6:00," Justin answered. "Some downtime in the middle but not enough to leave campus."

_Do you want to meet me there? I'm probably going to get there around 2:00 so I can see the poetry slam._

Justin smiled. "Yeah, okay." He paused, eyes darting over Nate's face. They widened, then he squeezed them closed and cupped his forehead with his hand. "Nate, I don't even know what day it is. Is it Tuesday?"

Nate tapped his shoulder and he opened his eyes again.

_Close. Wednesday._

Justin sighed, dragging his hand down his cheek. His hand paused at his chin. His beard was getting too long. He needed to trim.

"Okay," he said. "Is it cool if I invite Brett along? His studying is way more intense than ours and I know if we can drag him away from it he could use the break."

Nate laughed. _Of course. Has he ever been to a First Friday?_

"I can't see how he couldn't," Justin said. He took a long, slow sip of his tea and sighed. "With his interest in the theatre and art and stuff, I'd be really, really surprised if he hadn't."

Nate nodded. His smile faded and his eyebrows drew together. His face was softer, more serious, when he asked, _How is he? Is he doing okay?_

"I haven't seen him in a while so it's hard to say," Justin answered. "But when we talk, he seems all right. Stressed, obviously, because the semester's been tough on him. But it seems like he's still on track with his original plan of switching majors and there hasn't been another breakdown."

_And how are_ you?

Justin sighed. "Well, I know what I _don't_ want to study. But it still leaves two hundred majors to pick from." He sighed and put his cup down next to his crackers. "Nate, why do I have to pick a major? Why do I have to get a career? You know what you want to do. Brett knows what he wants to do. And that's awesome!" His voice was suddenly a little too high pitched and he was talking a little too fast, his hands gesturing a little bigger than they should. "But I have no fucking idea! There's nothing I like enough to want to make a career out of it. I like the job I have. I mostly like the life I have. Why can't I just continue to be a lead barista and take classes that I think are interesting just for the sake of learning?"

Nate watched as Justin spoke, his eyes soft, but focused, serious.

_Why can't you?_

Justin froze.

Nate shrugged. His hand movements were loose and lazy and a little slurred from exhaustion, but clear. _Seriously. You make enough money to support yourself. You're full time so they give you health insurance. You like what you do. We both know you probably have a promotion on the way as soon as something opens up. Those are the most important things in a job, right?_

"Yeah," Justin said. "But…" He trailed off again. Nate was still, waiting for Justin to finish. He didn't, because he didn't know what he was going to say.

_I know you have this really deep-seated fear of failure,_ Nate finally signed. _And with what your family put you through while we were growing up, I totally understand why you feel like you have something to prove. But your worth isn't defined by what kind of job you have or how much money you make. It's defined by what you're like as a person and how you live your life. I'm majoring in_ creative writing _, Justin. I'm not getting a glamorous job straight out of school. I'm probably going to stay at the record store for at least another couple years, minimum, while I try to establish myself. And Brett's moving over to theatre performance. Neither of us are really role models for practical life choices._

Justin's eyes darted over Nate's face, unsure, before they dropped to his feet, propped out in front of him.

_People talk shit about how baristas and cashiers and fast food workers need to get 'real jobs', but without us, people couldn't buy their coffee and their CDs and their lunch. Maybe making sure a student gets his cappuccino or a kid gets her hot chocolate isn't going to be written down in history, but that doesn't mean it doesn't matter._

Justin's hands tightened so hard on the granite countertop a few of his knuckles popped.

_Although, if you want to continue on that track, the only thing I'd suggest is transferring to a community college because it's going to save you a lot of money,_ Nate finished. _And if three or five or however many years down the line you change your mind and find something you want to go to school for, then do it. You don't have to stick with the decision you make now forever. Things change. People change. Life changes. And that's okay._

Justin chuckled and ran his fingers through his hair. He felt like he should be arguing right now and he didn't understand why, and that annoyed the _hell_ out of him, because Nate was right. There was nothing to argue _about_. Why was he looking for a problem?

"At least it's summer break coming up and not winter," he finally said. "So it gives me more than a couple weeks to figure out my shit."

_Just think about it_ , Nate pressed. _Stop worrying about proving yourself to other people. The people who matter don't need or even want you to. Okay?_

Justin's mouth twisted and his stomach clenched, tight and uncomfortable, like suddenly the floor had been yanked from under him and he was hovering, unsupported and vulnerable, waiting for that split-second before he plummeted.

He'd somewhat patched things up with his parents. A little. They tolerated each other now. They talked sometimes, even though it was rare and stilted. Most of his extended family hadn't spoken to him in years. Occasionally he'd get an email on his birthday or Christmas, but usually it was impersonal and only one or two sentences. They almost always included some variant of 'Have you found a nice girl, yet?' and Justin wasn't sure whether it was willful, forced ignorance or some kind of subtle threat. Sometimes he wished he could cut them off completely. But his mom needed him and Nora, even if neither of them talked to her much, and if he tried to stop talking to some of these people, she'd suffer the brunt of the backlash. She was lonely. She'd been a housewife and stay at home mom most of her adult life, and with her kids gone, she didn't have much anymore.

Sometimes Justin felt like _he_ was the terrible one for leaving her stranded, despite what Nate and Nora said, even though she'd been one of the ones to drive him off. _She's getting better_ , he often tried to tell himself, but hiding his sexual orientation under a rug like some terrible, shameful secret was only marginally better than berating and insulting him for it.

And yet, still, to this day, he felt like he had to prove himself to them. He was worth it. He was smart, if a little aimless, and he worked hard, and he did his best to be a good person and do other people right. He didn't always succeed. He'd flunked classes and lost jobs and ruined friendships, but he tried so, so hard to do his best and fix things when he screwed them up.

His eyes shot back to Nate when his friend snapped underneath his nose.

_You're doing that thing again. I can see it on your face_.

Justin chuckled and shook his head, but didn't deny it. He was pretty sure Nate could read his mind, so what would be the point?

"Do you think I should call my mom?" he asked. He was almost embarrassed about how small and unsure his voice was.

Nate hesitated, then signed carefully, _I think you should do whatever you need to to keep yourself happy and healthy._

Justin knew him, and he knew it was Nate's way of saying, "She's toxic and all she does is hurt you. Don't force yourself to keep her in your life just because she's blood related."

He cleared his throat and gripped the counter a little tighter to try to make his hands stop trembling. He was so _bad_ at dealing with emotions. He'd never learned how. He was surprised he hadn't developed some kind of drug habit to cope with it.

"Yeah." It was just barely a whisper. "You're right." He looked up at the microwave on the other side of the kitchen to check the clock. It was getting closer to midnight already. When he looked back at Nate, he asked, "Would it be weird if we invited ourselves over to your parents' tomorrow? Not necessarily for dinner. Just… to see them."

Nate smiled and shook his head. _No, that would be fine. You're not a guest who has to wait for an invite, Justin. You're family. You can just show up any time you want. Even if I'm not with you. Squeaker even keeps a jar of peanut butter and a shelf stable carton of soy milk in the pantry just in case you stop by._

A smile broke across Justin's face, a real one, and even though it was wet, it felt good to laugh. "Really?"

_Yeah_. Nate laughed a little when Justin's smile widened. Not mocking, not mean. Just glad Justin was smiling again. _I'll call my mom in the morning to let her know we're coming by so we don't drive up to an empty house._


	10. Chapter 10

With the exception of finals, May was the perfect month. The weather, the scenery, the longer days. Easter was over and so was the repeated question of "What do you _mean_ you don't go to church?" Passover was over, which was a little more unfortunate, because that meant he wouldn't see his family until the next major holiday. He didn't see them enough, but they all lived so far _away_.

And this year, First Friday happened to fall on the first of the month, which, even though it was irrelevant, still made him happy. Little coincidences like that always did.

Nate was somewhere around. Brett sent him a text in an attempt to track him down and meet up, but it was so busy, if his phone wasn't on vibrate he might not even be aware. It could take a few minutes. It was about 4:00, so he was running a little late, but there wasn't anything specific he'd wanted to see, so he wasn't worried. Justin would be catching up in a couple of hours.

Brett's phone hung from his left hand so he would feel it vibrate when Nate replied, and in his other hand was a sno-cone that was turning his mouth bright blue. For now, he wandered, taking everything in, mentally storing away the locations of galleries he might want to check out later with Justin or Nate or both. Or maybe neither. But he didn't step into any of them for now, because he'd have to leave when Nate responded, anyway.

His phone buzzed and he flipped it open to read the text. It was Nate.

_Over by the abstract painting setup. There's a small group of mimes nearby, if that helps any?_

Brett's glanced around the area. There were too many setups to easily figure out which was which, so instead he started looking for mimes. He picked a direction and started walking.

Thankfully, that direction was the right one, and not too long after he saw the area over to his left. Nate was easy to spot, being so tall, and Brett walked up beside him, where he was admiring a painting of… something, maybe a goldfish bowl? With lots of oranges and blues and greens. Nate glanced over at him, back at the painting, back at Brett again.

He waved and grinned. He wrapped a lanky arm around Brett's shoulder in a brief, but friendly hug as he dug his tablet out of his bookbag.

"Hey." Brett didn't hug back, but he did briefly lean into him before they pulled away from each other.

Nate pulled his hand back and swiped at his tablet a few times before his fingers started to fly across the screen. _I was actually about to see if I could find anything to eat around here. I see you found the sno-cones._ He gestured at Brett's mouth and Brett laughed.

"It was delicious. I have no regrets."

Nate laughed and nodded his head to the left, one eyebrow raised. He tucked his tablet under his arm, because he didn't need it for a gesture so obvious. _Want to come with me?_

"Sure." Brett followed, sticking his phone and both of his hands in his pockets.

His steps were slow and leisurely as they walked, not to anything in particular. Just waiting for something to find them. He didn't say much, not yet, but the silence between them had always been comfortable, so he didn't mind. At one point, he caught a couple of women out of the corner of his eye. He glanced over. When they kissed, he quickly averted his eyes, locking them on the pavement in front of him. He'd been doing a really good job not thinking about his stupid crush for the past couple of weeks, since he'd been so wrapped up in school.

Brett jumped when Nate shoved the tablet in front of his face. _What's up? What was that about?_

When Brett looked up, Nate's eyes were wary, his mouth just turned down. _Shit_. Nate had seen his reaction. _Now he probably thinks I'm a huge jerk!_

Brett shook his head. Nate stopped. Suddenly, Brett did, too, because Nate's hand shot out to his shoulder and stilled him. He pushed the tablet into Brett's vision again and tapped the message he'd written previously.

_Oh, God, does he think I'm going to start being weird about Justin?_

Brett opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Annie was still the only person he'd talked to about the situation. Cass knew, but it didn't count, because they'd never seriously discussed it. He half thought she was joking about it most of the time, anyway.

Everything he'd read had led him to believe that coming out was a thing he'd do once, then it was over. It was the biggest lie he'd ever been told. Once he did it the first time, it would never end. If he ever ended up with a boyfriend, he'd have to come out to everyone he introduced him to. Over and over and over. The first time was terrifying as it was. Did it ever get easier?

Nate's face was calm, but serious. He flexed his wrist to get Brett's attention back on the tablet. He wasn't going to drop it until Brett reassured him he wasn't being homophobic. And he wasn't, at least, not toward the couple. Maybe toward himself, a little bit? Was internalized homophobia a thing? Or, would it be biphobia? Was that even a word? _God, I really don't know anything_. He pushed his hair out of his face and it fell right back in. His neck prickled. His stomach churned.

"Have you…" Brett paused and averted his eyes, staring at Nate's shoulder. He swallowed, hard, and it was like trying to shove a football through a straw. He cleared his throat. "Have you ever wondered if… like. If… if you might not be straight?

Brett couldn't look at Nate's face. His was burning the most painful way, in terror and vulnerability and humiliation. His eyes were closed because he couldn't handle seeing where he was, surrounded by all these people, talking about…

Then Nate's hand landed on his shoulder and he flinched, even though he knew his friend would never hit anyone, much less for something like this. He slid the tablet under Brett's nose. _Let's go find somewhere quieter to talk about this._

Brett nodded, but when he opened his eyes, he still didn't look at Nate's face.

They wandered a while, then finally settled on a small bench underneath a tree. There were still people around, but not as many, and they were all wrapped up in their own conversations. Brett's face still burned with vulnerability, but the worry was easier to control.

Nate slid the tablet into Brett's lap, fingers still curled around the side. _What's going on? What do you mean, 'not straight?' Are we talking about you or a friend?_

Brett spread his feet wide as he leaned over, forearms on his knees and shoulders hunched as he played with his fingers. "So." He swallowed nervously. "So, all my life, I've only dated women, right?" He paused. Nate's tablet was in his lap, his hands still, waiting for his turn. Thank God. If Nate tried to interrupt, Brett was sure he'd lose his nerve and walk away. "And so, you know, everyone assumed I was straight. _I_ assumed I was straight. But… I…" He stopped again, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. He had to force out all the air he was holding in to keep himself breathing. "But I'm not." He spit it out fast, like it was all one word. "I don't… I think I'm bi? I don't know much about this stuff. I don't know what word to use for myself. But I." He cleared his throat again "You're only the second person I've told. But that's… I've been struggling with this for a long time. With finals coming up I was mostly able to ignore it, but seeing that couple just reminded me, I guess. Which is why I…"

Nate wrapped his arm around Brett's shoulders and gave him a friendly jostle. His hold was loose, but still comforting. He nudged Brett's knee and the shorter man looked up. Nate pointed at him and signed, _Okay_. Brett smiled weakly and looked back down. The taller man finally picked up his tablet again. His fingers slid over it for a few moments, then he turned it around. _So, can I ask, who's the first person you told?_

"My ex-girlfriend, actually. Annie." Brett shook his head and chuckled, because it felt totally natural that Annie would be the first to know, but it sounded ridiculous out loud.

Nate gestured for him to continue.

"And she was super supportive," Brett said. "She basically said that if you love someone, it doesn't matter what everyone's gender is as long as it's real."

Nate tapped something out on his tablet. _She sounds pretty smart._

Brett nodded. There was another beat of silence. Finally, Nate swiped over his tablet once and typed up something else. _When are you going to tell Justin?_

Brett swallowed, hard. He shrugged, but his shoulders shook a little. Maybe. Maybe they didn't and only felt that way, because Nate didn't call him on it.

Nate leaned back against the bench and crossed his legs, ankle over knee.

"I don't know," Brett said. "I mean, I will. Probably after finals."

_Why not tonight? You know he'll be fine with it._

Brett pushed the tablet away. Nate let him. When Brett looked up, Nate's face was conflicted, frustrated, like he needed to say something but wasn't allowed to.

"I know," Brett sighed. "I know." But it was so much more complicated than that. He couldn't come out to Justin without spilling out some kind of love confession along with it and he had no idea how his friend would handle that. Brett didn't want to make their friendship weird or awkward. Even just those twenty minutes of awkwardness the morning after his breakdown was too much. He loved Justin. He didn't want to jeopardize their friendship.

_Oh God oh God oh God I definitely just thought that._ Brett loved him. Was he _in_ love with him? He didn't know. But love was definitely a thing he was feeling and it was definitely not platonic.

"Please don't tell him, okay?" Brett swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck, turning his face into his wrist. "I want to do it. I don't want him to think I don't want him to know. I just… I just need a little more time."

Nate sighed, frustrated, and deleted and retyped a new message on his tablet. _All right. But I still think you should talk to him tonight. I think it would be better_.

"I know," Brett repeated. "But I just… I'm not ready. I'm not like him. He's not afraid of what people think. I wish I could be as confident as he is, but I'm _not_."

Nate's eyes softened. His fingers weren't so urgent across the touchscreen this time. _He's sacrificed a lot to get to where he is now._

"I know. He's really amazing." When Brett looked up at Nate, the taller man was watching him with an expression he didn't understand. He looked like Brett felt when he read an especially difficult passage in a textbook. Analyzing. _Oh, God, does he know?_

But Nate just nodded, once. He gnawed on his lip ring as he watched Brett, like the older man was something under a microscope he didn't understand but knew he could figure out with enough time and concentration. Brett shifted uncomfortably on the hard metal bench.

"Nate, you're freaking me out," Brett murmured.

_Sorry_. The sign was quick, but it was one of the few basic ones Brett recognized. His face changed again, more relaxed, more thoughtful, as he picked up his tablet again. Brett didn't realize one person could have so many different facial expressions.

_I have to ask you a question that I know you're going to hate. And I'm sorry._

Nate held the tablet in front of Brett as he waited for confirmation. Brett nodded. Nate took the tablet back and continued typing.

_What about your family? I know you're financially stable without them, so you'll be okay there. How do you think they'll react?_

"I -" Brett's words caught in his throat and he had to cough to get the rest of them out. "I think my grandma will be okay. But other than that, I have no idea. When I was growing up, homosexuality was never mentioned. It wasn't a good thing or a bad thing. It just wasn't a thing that was acknowledged at all. And I don't know what that means." His voice and hands were shaking. "My family is really small. It's just my dad and me, my grandma, and my aunt and uncle and three cousins. That's all of us. Our branch of Judaism doesn't say much on the subject. Most people don't seem to care, but they could care for reasons that aren't religious, you know? I don't know."

_I can't claim to know either._ Nate nudged the tablet into Brett's hands. He took it. _And I don't know your family other than what you've told me. But if you need advice, I'll try. Justin would be better to talk about it, though, because he's been there. But you know I'll back you up, right?_

Brett's smile was weak and his laugh breathy and uncomfortable, but at least they were there. "Thanks, Nate."

They sat in silence for a few long minutes. There was a street performer nearby, doing some kind of balancing act that wasn't quite juggling with three shiny, silver balls. They watched. Brett felt like he should say something, but he didn't know what, so he stayed quiet.

It was so quiet he jumped when his phone vibrated in his hand. Nate looked over, and when he saw why Brett started, he chuckled. Brett shrugged one shoulder, but smiled as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. It was Justin.

_oh man brett can i please just ditch this fucking queer theory class. please. it would be so easy i could just say i'm going to the bathroom and then just not go back._

Brett raised an eyebrow. Justin had never made a secret of his hatred of that class, but had it really gotten that bad? Nate nudged his shoulder, nodding toward the phone. He cringed when Brett showed him the text.

_What's going on? Are you okay?_ he texted back.

It took him a few minutes because he was in lecture, but eventually Justin responded.

_the instructor honest to god just said that a monogamous same-gender couple is less queer than a straight poly relationship because the gay couple meets the standards of heternormativeness? what the fuck. no. only queer people get the queer label and even then only when they want it and reclaim it for themselves. i am so tired of this shit._

Brett's brow drew down and his mouth fell open, as if he were about to verbally protest even though only Nate could hear what he was saying. The taller man saw his face and nodded toward the phone, raising his eyebrows in question. Brett showed him the text. Nate sighed heavily in annoyance.

"He really has to put up with a lot of crap, doesn't he?" Brett murmured.

Nate picked up his tablet again.

_Homophobia isn't just beatdowns and people yelling slurs. It can be as little as rude service or erasure like this._

"Shit," Brett mumbled. Nate's eyebrows rose at the curse.

Brett took a minute to think before he responded.

_I'm sorry, Justin. If you do ditch I don't think anyone here will think poorly of you for it._

His shoulders and arms were tight. The tension shot all the way up into his neck and the back of his head. If he continued to come out, this was going to be his life, too. He didn't know if he could handle it.

It didn't matter. The world didn't care if he could handle it or not. The world was going to throw whatever it wanted at him whenever it wanted to, and he had to take it as best he could.

His phone went off.

_i'm on my way. i'll see you soon. i'm dropping out of this school at the end of this semester anyway so who even cares if i flunk one dumb class._

"You're _what_?" Brett shouted, as if Justin could hear him. Nate jumped and looked back at him again. He shook Brett's shoulder, a silent query.

Brett's head shot up. His thoughts raced through his head so fast he wasn't even sure what they were. He couldn't stop and focus on one long enough to figure out what was going on. Justin was dropping out of school? Was he moving? Was he leaving? No, he couldn't –

"Justin's dropping out of school?"

Nate looked away and breathed out sharply through his nose.

"What?"

He picked up his tablet. _He said he might. He doesn't know what the wants to do and the school threatened to kick him out if he didn't declare a major. He's just going to work for a while and maybe pick up a few classes at a community college._

Brett could breathe again, but the cool spring air bit his neck, or maybe it wasn't the breeze. Maybe it was the terror that he was going to lose Justin before he had the chance to tell his friend how he felt.

"Oh," Brett breathed. "He's… he's not moving, is he?"

Nate shook his head. _We're still living together. He's just not going to the same school anymore._

"Oh," Brett repeated. His breathing came sharp and jagged, like he'd just run a long-distance sprint. "Oh. Okay."

Nate bit down on his lip ring. His fingers hovered over the tablet. He frowned, then shook his head and started typing.

_You really should come out to Justin today. When he gets here, or after we leave._

Brett looked up at Nate. His hand was clenched tight. He loosened it, curled it in on itself again. Brett went back to reading.

_It'll be good for both of you. You can get it off your chest. He can help you figure out what you want to do next. It's your decision and I'll let you make it, but_

Brett stopped reading and pushed the tablet back into Nate's hands.

"Nate." His voice was wobbly, even though he tried to keep it firm. "Please stop. I know you're trying to help, but I can't… I just, I have to do this one person at a time. I don't know if I can handle coming out twice in one day. Not yet."

Nate sighed and swiped his fingers across the touchpad and typed out something new. _Okay. Sorry. I'll shut up then._

A small smile curled across Brett's mouth and he chuckled.

"Thanks." And he meant it for so, so many reasons.

Nate nodded. _You're okay,_ he signed. _You'll be okay._ He pulled Brett into a one-armed hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today! And that gets us all caught up to the other websites I'm posting on, so updates will now be every Thursday (usually sometime in the morning).
> 
> Keep an eye out for my short stories! I hope to start posting them soon. :)


	11. Chapter 11

_I've never been this exhausted in my life_.

With his insomnia slowly getting worse and worse and finals getting closer and closer, Justin found himself thinking this a lot, but this time, he was sure it was true.

It was 3:00 Thursday morning. He only had one more final, since exams weren't held on Fridays. Ethics. The hardest one _would_ be the last one. He couldn't even study, because the entire exam would be essay questions. He could definitely have been sleeping, because he didn't have to leave for work until 4:30.

If he didn't have insomnia, anyway.

He'd only slept twelve hours in the past week. His vision kept blurring and sometimes suddenly he couldn't find his feet and had trouble walking in a straight line. Occasionally he found himself slurring his words and it was difficult to keep focused on a single thought, and often that single thought wasn't even coherent. He didn't know how he was going to manage three five-paragraph essays in two hours.

Lying around and staring at the ceiling was a waste of time, so he pushed himself out of bed. With a wide yawn, he stretched his arms out over his head and went into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. Double strength, since it was just him. It was too early for the newspaper to have arrived and nothing would be on TV but infomercials, but it was too quiet, too still in the dark, early morning, so Justin turned on the TV and slipped in one of the DVDs from his music video collection. The volume was so soft he could barely hear it, but at least it wasn't silence.

He stood, leaning against the kitchen wall, watching the TV through the open space in the breakfast nook. He slowly went through one cup of coffee, then another, then another, as he stared blankly at the videos playing on the screen. By the time he got through it, it was almost 4:00.

He took a cold shower in an attempt to clear his thoughts. It didn't work. He pulled on the first clothes he found, because nothing he owned violated the work dress code, anyway.

The store was unlocked when he arrived, which meant the manager on duty was already in. It was still ten minutes early, but Justin went inside, anyway.

"Morning," he called as he entered.

"That you, Justin?" The voice was Michiko's. Justin breathed a sigh of relief. That meant no matter how crazy anything might get, everything would be under control. She was soft spoken and barely reached five foot, but she ran the tightest store Justin had ever worked and he loved it.

"Hey, Michiko," he called back. "Yeah, it's me."

He started when she popped up from behind the counter. She laughed. "Just making sure everything is stocked under here for the morning. You can go ahead and clock in early if you want to give me a hand."

"Of course." He ducked around the back to clock himself in, pulling his apron on as he stepped behind the counter. "What's left?"

"Go ahead and start up the espresso machines and make sure they're properly calibrated," she said. "Then, when it's five before open, start the drip coffee. I'll get started on filling the bake case."

"Are we short anything?" Justin asked as he started the espresso machine. She waited until he was done grinding the beans to answer.

"Nope. We've really gotten on the overnight shift about counting properly and it's finally sunk in, because we haven't had any issues in a couple of weeks."

Justin tamped down the espresso and pulled the shot. He watched the second hand on the clock as it pulled. Eighteen seconds. Perfect.

He dumped it and did it again for the other three. Since they all pulled properly, he saved them to use for his employee drink, splashing in a little soy milk so it wouldn't burn before he had the chance to finish it.

"Hey, Michiko?" he called as he started on the drip.

"Yeah?" Her voice came from the back.

"Is it okay if I leave my car parked here in the back for a couple of hours after my shift so I can walk over to the school for my final? It'll be maybe two, two and half hours."

She toed the swinging door and Justin jumped to grab it when he saw how full her hands were. "That's fine. Everything okay?" She spread out all the baked goods on the counter and went to work filling the bake case.

"Yeah." He kneeled down to help her get the case organized, since there was nothing he could do with the drip coffee until it was done brewing. "Just, with finals I haven't had as much time to go on my morning runs an I wanted to get in _something_ today."

"Man, Justin, no wonder you're so fit and beautiful!" she laughed. "I wish I had that kind of dedication to exercising."

Justin shook his head and laughed as he slid a now-full plate back into the case. "Michiko, you are pretty much the perfect person, okay?"

"I'm almost thirty pounds overweight!" she argued, but she was laughing.

"Still perfect," Justin insisted. She chuckled and shook her head.

The door opened and he leaned up to look over the counter. It was Cody. Justin's jaw tightened but he didn't say anything other than a quick, pseudo-friendly, "Morning," that she was much too smart to buy as sincere. Her smile was just as fake when she responded with a quick, "Hey."

She wasn't a _bad_ person, really. She just _grated_ on him. Ever since he turned down her date request four months ago, things had been strained, and when she later asked and he was honest about _why_ he'd said no it got even worse. She'd outed him to the rest of the staff within a week. He could have easily lost his job, and it was only because he was very lucky that nobody in management was homophobic that he was still working there. But because of it, he'd had trouble with one of the cashiers for a while, and that led to management calling a staff meeting to introduce a new diversity training program. Although no names were ever mentioned, everyone knew why. Justin wasn't naïve and his coworkers weren't stupid.

He knew it shouldn't matter anymore, but sometimes it still gnawed at him, even though it happened months ago. If Cody's attitude was anything to judge by, she hadn't forgotten it, either. She didn't treat him with disgust, exactly, but… it was a difficult thing to name. She treated him like he was a weird insect that needed to be kept at arm's length with a stick. He wasn't sure whether it was because he turned her down or if it was because he was gay or if it was because she'd been interested in dating someone who turned out to be gay, but it didn't matter, because they were still feeling the effects, now.

"Your drawer is ready to go," Michiko said as Cody went to the back to clock in. Justin looked up at the clock. It was 5:00 a.m. They were open.

The morning started slow, with mostly business people trickling in for the first hour. But then, an hour into open, a massive rush of students, teachers, and office workers hit. Even though there were cafés everywhere, most people came here, because their café had the best coffee in miles and people were willing to wait in a line that literally went out the door. Justin worked best with long lines and high pressure, in three places simultaneously and hands everywhere at once, banging out order after order completely accurately with minimal wait time on the customer's end. Nate was right; maybe making espresso didn't matter much in the scheme of things, but he was good at it and he loved it and it made people happy, and that was what mattered. For a while, Michiko ran around right alongside him to help him get through the rush before heading back to the office to do some administrative work.

Traffic was nonstop for two hours before it slowed to the point where Justin was enough to keep the drinks going on his own. Michiko papped his shoulder gently as she walked by.

"Don't be afraid to call if you get slammed again, okay?"

"Thanks, Michiko." He turned around to wipe down the counter and heard Cody sigh heavily. When he turned back, his neck went cold. It was Nate and Brett. Their classes started at the same time, so it didn't surprise him that they'd be in together. Normally it would be awesome to see them.

But not with Cody here at the same time. He didn't want drama or trouble and now that he was leaving school, this job was all he had. He'd have to screw up pretty badly to lose it, but losing his temper and verbally lashing out at another employee in front of a roomful of customers would probably do it, even if she did start something with either of them.

"Hey, guys!" Justin leaned forward against the counter to peer out at them from between the two espresso machines. Cody rolled her eyes, but he didn't call her on it. "What can I get started?"

"All of them," Brett grinned. His face was tired and there were dark circles under his eyes. He'd lost weight. Justin hadn't seen him since First Friday. They'd talked, but not much, because school had taken up all of their time. But Brett was just finishing year three of pre-med, and even if he was changing majors, keeping his grades up was important to him. Justin couldn't imagine how intense his workload must have been.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Brett nodded, covering a wide yawn with his forearm. "I'll be better once my last two finals are over," he laughed. "Okay, though, drinks, um." He glanced up at the board, then back at Justin. "Whatever you want to make. Surprise me. You know what kinds of stuff I like. I'm sorry, I'm sure that's annoying, but I'm too tired to decide right now."

Justin didn't have to think about it. He glanced over at Cody and said, "Medium skim caramel mocha, iced," then turned back to the espresso machine and started pulling the shots.

Brett gave him a lopsided grin and a thumbs up. Nate ordered a large hazelnut iced coffee, so Justin got working on that, too, as they took their turns paying.

They lingered by the bar for a few minutes after their drinks were finished, but then another wave of customers came in, so they said their goodbyes and headed out. Brett paused and looked over his shoulder to ask, "You're still coming to the Big Bad Wolf show at The Sets tonight, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Justin grinned.

Brett grinned back and nodded, and both he and Nate waved as they left and Justin went back to work. For the next few minutes, Cody shot him weird, suspicious glances, but he ignored it. If she wanted to say anything, she didn't get the chance before Michiko came back out front and chased her out to her lunch. Justin glanced up at the clock. 10:00.

"Your lunch is next, Justin, okay?" Michiko asked.

"Is it okay if I push it back to 11:00?"

She thought for a moment, brown eyes on the ceiling. "That's fine," she finally said. "I don't have anything to do specifically then, so I can cover you."

"Also," he said, "I'm looking to take about a week off sometime this summer so I can go visit my sister in California. We haven't set anything up yet, but I was thinking, maybe July? Would that be okay?"

"Mid-summer would be easiest for us to schedule," she said. "So, late June, early July. Around then. Let me know as soon as you do, okay?"

"Of course." His birthday was past then, on the 16th, but that was all right. He could spend the day with his friends. Maybe he could make a weekend out of it. A concert on Friday with Nate and Brett, club-hopping Saturday with Sergio. His mother would want to see him on the actual day. Maybe he could talk her into going out for dinner instead of going over to his parents' house, where she'd corner him and try to preach him back into heterosexuality. At least if they met in a public place she'd be less likely to proselytize.

But that was almost a month and a half away. He had plenty of time to make plans.

Cody's break didn't seem to take its full thirty minutes, and suddenly, it was time for Justin's. He set an alarm for twenty-five minutes and attempted to take a nap, but instead just spent the time leaning back with his feet propped up on a chair, eyes half-closed. Just as he gave up and stood to stretch the tension out of his muscles, the breakroom door opened and Blue walked in. He grinned and gave Justin a nod. Justin half-heartedly waved back as Blue stuffed his backpack into his locker. The hems of his jeans were rucked up around his namesake blue sneakers and he lifted one foot at a time to adjust them back to where they should have been, propping himself up lazily against the wall of lockers.

"You okay, Justin?" he asked. Justin's yawn was so wide it stretched the corners of his mouth. He nodded.

"Yeah. Just haven't been sleeping well."

Blue frowned. "Finals rough on you, too?"

Justin glanced up at Blue's face for the first time. He also had dark rings around his eyes. If Justin remembered right, he was just finishing his first semester. Blue had been a spring starter.

"Yeah." It wasn't _really_ a lie. Justin didn't bring personal problems into work unless it was unavoidable.

"You here much longer?" Blue asked.

"Just until 1:00."

"You're taking your break kind of late."

Justin shrugged and checked his phone for the time. He had five minutes. "I'm just going back now," he said.

Blue grinned, big and boyish. He reminded Justin of Nate in many ways. Not physically – Blue was shorter, not so gangly, with brown hair and green eyes and lighter skin, and nearly every inch of him from the neck down was inked – but the way he phrased things, the way he held himself and treated people. He was one of the few guys Justin worked with who didn't get weird when he was outed.

"Well, I'll be out in five," he said. Justin smiled back.

"Yeah, all right. You want me to get your drink ready now, or are you going to wait until later?" He paused, hand on the doorknob as Blue thought.

"Yeah, actually," he said. "Can you get a large six shot cinnamon mocha going for me? Make it iced?"

Justin grinned and turned the doorknob. "No problem."

There was a small line Justin had to get through when he took over for Michiko, but Justin still had Blue's drink ready when he came out, in the back corner by the sink where he always kept it. Blue grinned over at Justin when he came through the door and saw it, miming a toast before he took a sip and placed it back in the corner.

He clapped his hands together loosely and popped up on his toes. "So, how have things been today?"

"Fine." Cody's voice was terse. Blue glanced over at Justin from the corner of his eye. Justin shrugged. Who knew? She always acted like this when he was around.

"About the same as always," he elaborated. "We'll probably get hit with another rush again in about fifteen minutes if things keep going normally."

Blue pursed his lips and nodded a few times. "All right then." He took another sip of his coffee and gently shook the plastic cup. "Guess I'd better get this down before I get tied up. There's nothing worse than watery coffee."

Within twenty minutes there was another line back to the door and it didn't stop even when it was Justin's time to clock out. He had a final to get to, but he still felt a mild rush of guilt when he had to pull Michiko out of the back office to take his place beside Blue. She just laughed and waved him away to the back. When he got outside, he took a quick glance at his car to make sure it was okay before heading back out to the street to take the sidewalk back to campus. He didn't stop in. All he needed was a few pencils, which he had in his pocket already.

The weather was a little too warm and it weighed down his eyelids and feet. It was the perfect temperature to curl up beside an open window for a nap. He sped up to a not quite jog, trying to force himself to keep moving, to wake back up, but he'd barely gotten one night's sleep in a week and his body was wearing thin. Occasionally he had to slow down to the bare drag of his feet for a few minutes before he forced himself to pick up speed again because if he stopped, he didn't know if he'd be able to start back up.

The school was a little less than a mile away, but Justin still felt like he'd walked 500 by the time he finally got there. The class before his had finished, so he propped the door open on his way inside and plopped down at the closest desk while he waited for the instructor and the rest of the class.

When he opened his eyes, his cheek was pressed flat to the cold pseudo-wood of the desk, one arm curled over the top of his head. The person next to him was gently poking his shoulder.

"Hey. Hey, it's Justin, right?"

He rubbed the back of his neck as he pushed himself up. It twinged when he tried to shake the sleep out of his head and he cringed, hissing through his teeth. He blinked, slow and heavy, and looked around the room. It was almost full. Everyone was there but the professor.

Just three essays. Just three essays and he would be done.

Not long after, the instructor walked in. She gave a brief rundown of the exam rules and passed out one booklet with questions, one for answers. The class pulled their pencils out.

The clock hit 2:00. "Go," she said. "You have exactly one hour and fifty minutes."

He flipped both booklets open and picked up one of his pencils.

_Three more essays, and then you're out. Just get it done, Justin. All you have to do is pass._

He had to push it to the last minute because he'd never been good at improvising essays, but he got it done, and when he dropped his booklets on the professor's desk on his way out the door, a heavy weight fell off his shoulders. But instead of falling entirely out of him and floating away like anxiety usually did, it shot straight to his feet, and suddenly he was wearing concrete boots.

Even if he could have driven in this state, there was no way he could make the walk back to his car and he didn't have any change for the bus that would get him there.

Slowly, too carefully, he made his way to the student union, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He had to stare at the numbers for over a minute to remember how to use it, and his text to Nate was messy and misspelled.

_hey_

He paused there, breathing in slowly, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to force the thought through his thumbs.

_hey i'm at the shcool, can you pick me up dn't think i can drve_

The text back was almost immediate. Nate wasn't at work. Thank God.

_What happened? Are you okay?_

Justin was in the middle of typing out his response when his phone rang. Nate's number appeared on the screen. Why would he be calling?

"Hello?"

"Hi, Justin! It's me, Joey!" Nate's little sister, though they both always called her by her childhood nickname, Squeaker. "Nate was just taking me home from an appointment. He wanted me to call you so we could talk in real time instead of text. Um –" She paused, making soft noises of affirmation. "He says we're not too far from the school and we'll be on our way over as soon as we can turn around somewhere. We'll be there in fifteen minutes or so. Are you okay?"

Suddenly Justin was short of breath. All his oxygen rushed to his brain to keep it working, leaving the rest of his body to short out. "Yeah, I'm just really sleep deprived. I have insomnia. Nate knows all about it. I can't drive and I just want to get home."

"Okay." Her high-pitched voice was a little tinny. She'd put him on speaker phone. "Nate says go get something to eat and drink and sit down somewhere. I'll call you back again when we get there, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

They hung up and Justin stuck his phone back in his pocket, continuing to the student union.

It was crowded, but not loud, because most of the people were focused on studying for finals and only a few small groups were just hanging out. He managed to find a quiet, two-person table in the corner and he leaned back heavily in the chair, legs stretched out all the way underneath the table and crossed at the ankles. He took a deep breath.

His ringtone and the vibration of his phone made him jump so hard he upset the table and had to jerk forward to right it. When he pulled his phone out of his pocket, Nate's name was on the caller ID. Had he fallen asleep? He didn't feel like it.

"Hello?" The phone weighed down his entire arm.

"Hi, Justin!" Squeaker's voice was always loud, but Justin didn't notice _how_ loud until now. He flinched. "We're coming up to the school now! Do you want Nate to pull into the front parking lot or the back?"

"The back." He nearly toppled forward when he stood and had to catch himself on the table. For a moment, he stood still, unsure, trying to decide if he was steady. He stood up straight. "Right up near the library," he continued. "I'll be out on a minute, okay?"

"Okay!" She hung up. He pocketed his phone again.

Eventually he managed to make his way behind the library at the corner of the back parking lot. When he got to the sidewalk, Nate's car was there, waiting. Squeaker was in the front seat, so Justin slid into the back, but even when his legs stopped, the rest of him kept going and his head ended up on the seat beside him. He didn't move. His eyelids must have weighed hundreds of pounds and when Squeaker called his name, he had to fight to open them.

"Mm?" He couldn't even manage words.

"I thought you'd like to lie down so I'm sitting in front for you. Do you want to switch?"

He halfheartedly waved his hand in a negative. He closed his eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See spoiler-y, chapter specific warnings at the end of the chapter!

Brett was done.

He'd finished his last assignment in pre-med ever. Tomorrow after work he was going to the enrollment center to officially change his major and he'd never have to look at another organic chemistry or anatomy textbook again.

Instead, he was going to be acting and learning makeup techniques and stage lighting and _probably working minimum wage for the rest of my life as a waiter or behind a cash register because it's so competitive oh God oh God what am I doing I'm really doing this aren't I oh God_ –

When he finally breathed out, it was a little too forceful. He leaned back against his front door, keys still tight in his hand as he paused on his way out to his car. The doors for the concert didn't open for another forty-five minutes, but apparently something had happened earlier and Justin didn't have his car. He'd been vague on the details so Brett was fuzzy about it. But, because of it, he was picking Justin up, which was going to involve a lot of driving and quite a bit of backtracking. Nate couldn't drive him because he was out with his sister.

But it would be nice. Aside from briefly stepping in the coffee shop earlier that day, Brett hadn't seen Justin in ages, one-on-one or not.

He'd just do that for now. Just go pick up Justin and go to the concert and celebrate his freedom. He could deal with all this grown-up stuff tomorrow. Yeah, he was twenty-two. He'd been an adult for a while, but not _that_ long a while. He still had the right to do stupid, irresponsible things occasionally, and compared to the things he could be getting up to, ignoring a stressful situation for a night so he could dance and mosh with friends wasn't that bad.

So he locked the door behind him and he went.

When he got to Justin's, the driveway was empty. He'd been expecting it, but it was still so _strange_.

He didn't lock the car behind him because he was only going up to the front door, where he rang the doorbell and knocked twice. When Justin answered, he had dark circles around his eyes, but he was smiling brightly and his posture was as sure and confident as always.

"Hey." His voice was soft, but happy. Brett had known he'd missed Justin, but until now, he hadn't realized how _much_. "You didn't have to come to the door. You could have just called and I'd have come out.

"It's no problem." Brett grinned. They both took an awkward half-step forward, but then Brett leaned back so he wouldn't get too close to Justin's personal space. Justin took another step forward and wrapped his arm around him in a quick half-hug, anyway.

_God, I missed this._

Brett missed the warmth of Justin's arm around his shoulders and his laugh and his crooked smile and the way he alternately cursed and followed it up with some four-syllable word that conveyed his exact meaning perfectly. "So, what happened with your car? Is everything okay? Why did you have to leave it at work?"

Justin chuckled and shook his head at himself as he stepped outside and locked the door behind him. "So, you know how I have insomnia."

Brett nodded as they headed back to the car and Justin continued. "It's just been really bad. I didn't feel safe driving. I was afraid I'd get in a wreck. So I had Nate pick me up and he's going to take me back to get my car tomorrow morning. Thankfully I don't work because the buses don't run that early and taking a cab would be insanely expensive."

Brett almost reached out for his arm, but all he managed was a twitch of his fingers before he switched his keys into the hand nearest Justin. Justin walked around to the passenger's seat.

"Are you okay to come out tonight?" Brett asked. "There'll be other shows, and I can bring you back a CD or something?"

"Oh, yeah," Justin said. "I got in a nap. That's why I didn't go over to Nate's parents' and needed you to pick me up. I'm still tired, but I'm functional now." He laughed, and so did Brett, but his was much more nervous. But Justin knew himself better than Brett did. He knew what he needed and what he could handle.

So Brett let him get in the car and he drove.

There wasn't much parking, but at least there weren't meters along the street, so their only concern was whether the space was legal for the time of day. Fortunately, they were able to find a spot without much difficulty, but unfortunately, it was going to require quite a bit of walking to get back to the venue.

"Sorry." Brett looked over the car at Justin, sheepishly. Justin laughed and shrugged.

"Don't be. It's fine. The fact that we got parking this close is actually pretty awesome."

Brett grinned back as they walked side-by-side down the street. The sidewalk was narrow so their elbows bumped, Justin's hands stuffed in his pockets and Brett's gesticulating while he talked about nothing of importance. The broken pavement felt so different underneath the soles of his combat boots, but he'd learned quickly if he tried to wear flip-flops to a punk show, he'd leave with a broken foot.

The city was so different when it was dark. It was still early and the doors hadn't opened, so there were plenty of people around, some lined up, some hanging out a block down and smoking or talking or eating take out. Some of them were probably waiting for one of the other clubs or venues to open. It wasn't that the city was quiet or empty, because even at 1:00 a.m., it never truly was. But when it was dark out, it was easier to see the dirt, the grime, the broken down streets and tagged up walls. Every now and then, with close attention, they could spot a treasure. But for every stenciled robot holding a 'Peace now!' sign on a lamp post, there were three blocks of street so torn up one could barely drive it and four broken down buildings with for rent signs in the windows that nobody would ever buy.

Maybe it was Phoenix, or maybe it was cities in general. Maybe every city would be like this one once he'd gotten over the things that drew him there in the first place. But Brett knew, in the way that he could only know something by believing it fully, intensely, _completely_ , that it wasn't the things, but the people that made a place, and when Justin threw his head back and laughed and the soft yellow lamplight caught his throat, he dampened down the ugliness and made everything just a bit more beautiful.

Brett hadn't been _avoiding_ coming out to Justin, not exactly _–_ they'd both been legitimately too busy to see each other. But now he didn't have any excuses. It wasn't the coming out itself he was afraid of, it was the fact that once he started, he wouldn't be able to stop, and there would definitely be some kind of messy, sloppily phrased confession of his feelings in there somewhere. And how would Justin take something like that?

The line started moving just as they approached the end of it, and soon they were at the door pulling out their cover and IDs. It was an all-ages show, but there was a bar, and so as they were let in, Justin got the dreaded big, black Sharpie X drawn on the back of his left hand that made it easy for the bartender to spot people under twenty-one. It could get washed off, but it was more trouble than it was worth, and they always checked ID inside again, just to be sure. Justin's big hand landed on Brett's shoulder and he gently nudged the older man in front of him, giving a nod and a "Thanks, man," to the bouncer as they passed.

"Do you know him?" Brett asked. He didn't have to yell just yet. The first band had only started setting up and weren't even doing a mic check yet.

"He's part time at one of my favorite clubs."

Brett nodded and followed the turn of Justin's head as he looked up to the stage. Justin's lips pursed and his eyebrow raised inquisitively. None of the people onstage were familiar to Brett, but it had been some time since he'd been out to a show and there were two bands here tonight he didn't know.

"You know them?" he asked, nodding his head toward the stage.

Justin slowly shook his head, then hesitated. He turned back to his friend. "I went to high school with the drummer. But I don't know the rest of them. I'm not sure who this is."

Brett glanced at the stage, back at Justin, unsure. "So… is that a bad thing?"

"I don't think so?" Justin rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged one shoulder. "I just, uh. Let's just stay back here for their set. I don't think he'd recognize me, but."

He stopped in the middle of his sentence. Brett swallowed and licked his lips, again glancing back at the stage, back at Justin. Was this guy one of the ones who pushed Justin around when he was younger? There was no fear in Justin's body, only discomfort.

"Why?" he asked.

"We, uh." Justin paused and cleared his throat. "We hooked up a few times. Nothing serious. Nothing bad happened, either. But it's just. It'd be awkward."

"You've been with a lot of guys, haven't you?" The second it came out of his mouth, Brett slapped his hand over it as if he could catch it and shove it back in.

_Oh, God, Brett, you are a fucking asshole._

"I'm so sorry," he spit out. "I. Oh God. I didn't mean that how it sounded."

The look on Justin's face was one Brett couldn't read, and something about that scared him. It was a little hurt, a little defeated, a little resigned, and something else Brett didn't recognize because he'd never seen it on Justin's face before. The taller man shrugged one shoulder and dropped his hand to his side. He looked away, over to Brett's left, and said, "We all fill up the holes we have in different ways. I mean, you're right. I have. But so fucking what, right?" His voice was hard now, almost challenging, even though it still wavered.

"I'm an asshole," Brett murmured. The band had started their mic check, so he stepped closer, telling himself it was so Justin could better hear him even though he knew that wasn't true. "I'm sorry," he said. His hand hovered by Justin's forearm, but he didn't touch it. "And you're right. So what? I wasn't accusing you of anything. It doesn't matter. Sex isn't some black mark on your record you have to keep track of and give penance for. There's nothing wrong or bad about it. And I'm sorry if I sounded that way. I."

Justin was looking at his shoulder now, but at least he wasn't looking _away_ , so Brett took one more step closer until their foreheads almost touched and opened his mouth to say, _I'm sorry, it's just, I was jealous and spoke without thinking_ , because it was the only way he could think of to say _I love you,_ but then someone called Justin's name, then his, a young girl? Brett looked up and around the room. Nate wasn't hard to spot. He was the tallest in the room.

When Justin pulled his hand out of his pocket to wave Nate over, it bumped Brett's wrist. It was shaking and it made Brett hate himself.

"Justin!"

Brett took a step back when a young girl threw herself at him and knocked him back a few steps. He laughed and pulled her into a quick hug. She was small and looked maybe twelve or thirteen, with dark brown skin and wide brown eyes and curly hair just barely long enough to pull back in a stubby ponytail, streaked with every color of the rainbow.

Justin had said something about Nate doing something with his sister? Was this her? But she looked so different. Were they step-siblings? Half?

Brett gestured at her. "Is this…?"

"I'm his sister, Joey!" she grinned. She held out her hand for a shake. Her grip was strong for someone so small. Her head whirled back toward Justin and she said, "Nate and Justin call me Squeaker but they're wrong. Did we miss anything? Sorry we're late. Nate got lost."

Nate huffed and rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air. He signed something, sharp and quick.

"'We did not get lost,'" Justin translates. "'We had to reroute because of construction. That's all.'"

Joey leaned toward Brett and Justin, gesturing them closer. Justin leaned in, so Brett followed. "That's how it _started_ ," she whispered. " _Then_ he got lost."

Justin laughed, standing up straight and throwing his head back. Joey grinned and giggled. Brett smiled. Thankfully, now he had someone here to fix what he'd screwed up.

Justin turned to him, still smiling as he gestured at Joey, but just as he opened his mouth to say something, the drummer starts counting with the tap of his sticks and the guitarist shouted, "One two fuck you!" and the music started in earnest, loud and unpolished and grating and _awesome_.

The four of them hung back for the time, away from the stage and away from the pit, but didn't stop Joey from bouncing around anyway, running circles around them, occasionally grabbing Nate's hands and forcing them to dance with her. But he was laughing and didn't protest and obviously enjoyed it, and Brett wished he could do the same with Justin, but even platonically, would that be weird? _God, gender roles are so stupid._

At first, Brett was still. Then his foot started tapping. Then his head bobbed. The music slowly wormed its way under his skin, into his muscles. For a shitty punk band, their music was really catchy, almost poppy, and the guitar work was a little like ska but also a lot like thrash and it was actually really complex. People milled around in front of the stage, and then, suddenly, the whole group parted and the pit started up in front. Brett wanted to be _in_ it, with the kicking feet and flying fists, running around in stupid circles and letting go because it was the only place he ever got to.

When he glanced over at Justin, he could tell his friend was thinking the same thing. Nate and Joey would probably hang back and dance there, because it was so much safer for someone her size. But that didn't have to stop him and Justin.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Justin was bouncing with the rhythm, not exactly dancing, but his eyes were closed and he clearly wasn't paying attention to anything but the music. Brett turned away and cleared his throat.

"You should dance with me," he finally said. His voice squeaked with nerves.

"What?" Whether Justin couldn't hear him or didn't believe him, Brett didn't know. He raised his voice and tried again.

"You should dance with me!" He was laughing, now, smiling brightly even though his hands were shaky with nerves, or maybe it was the bassline in the floor. Justin's eyes darted over his face, analyzing, before he smiled back and nodded once. He grabbed Brett's wrist and when Brett's grin widened, Justin laughed brightly, and then they were both lost in the crowd, jumping up and down and flailing and bumping into each other and even though they weren't touching, even though nobody else had anyway of knowing, Brett knew. For now, that was good enough.

But, slowly, Justin's feet started to get heavier and his movements started to drag. He slowed down and rested a heavy hand on Brett's shoulder as he walked past.

"I need to get some fresh air. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Are you okay?" Brett followed him toward the door.

"Yeah," Justin called over his shoulder. "I just need a minute. I'm fine."

Brett slowed to a stop as he reached the back, where Nate and Joey were still dancing together. Justin nodded once to the bouncer as he left. He just needed a breather, Brett had to tell himself. If something was wrong, even if Justin wouldn't tell him, he would tell Nate.

He turned back to his friend and his sister, but they weren't dancing anymore. Their hands were flailing in the air and when the light caught Joey's face, the shine of unshed tears flashed in the dimness.

"Hey," Brett said. "Are you guys okay?"

Joey sniffled, eyes locked on her feet. Nate put his hand between her shoulders and gave her a friendly jostle. She laughed once, softly.

"I forgot my meds," she said. "I was going to spend the night with Nate and Justin but I can't if I don't have them."

Nate pulled his phone out of his pocket at tapped the time.

"And I need them by 8:30," she said. She looked back up at Nate. "I'm sorry. I made a list and everything but I forgot to put them on it even though they should have been the first thing. I even know exactly where they are, on my bed next to where I was packing my backpack."

Brett looked from Nate over to Joey. "Are you going to be okay?"

She nodded. "The nighttime ones are for my depression, the morning ones are for my ADHD," she said. "It's not like… life threatening. But my head gets kind of messed up if I don't get them on schedule."

Nate gave Brett an apologetic look and handed him his phone. There was an unsent text that read,

_So we need to get going. Can you give Justin a ride back? I'm really sorry. I just don't want to have to drag him out so early in the show because he hasn't been able to go out in so long._

Brett smiled and waved away Nate's concern as he handed back the phone. "No problem. I don't mind."

Another message. _Thanks. Maybe you guys can talk about things on the ride home._ His eyes were gentle but his expression was pointed and Brett could tell he wasn't going to put up with his excuses much longer.

"Yeah." Brett smiled weakly. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

The thought terrified him, but Nate was right. He was out of excuses. There was no reason _not_ to tell Justin on their way back to his house tonight.

Nate and Joey said their goodbyes and Nate threw a friendly arm around Brett's shoulders and slapped him once on the back before they left. For now, Brett stayed in the back so Justin could easily find him when he came back in.

But then, the first band's set ended, and the next started setting up, and then they'd done their mic check and were three songs in and Justin still hadn't come back. In the hot dampness of the venue, icy fear started to tiptoe up Brett's back. Even though Justin had insisted that he was fine, he'd also said he hadn't been sleeping, and he looked terrible when he went outside and –

Brett was near the door, so it was easy to get outside. Nobody was there. He turned to the bouncer and started to ask, "Have you seen –"

The bouncer nodded over toward the corner of the building and said, "He went around the corner to take a call."

"Thanks." But it was soft and distracted and Brett was already walking away.

Justin was just where the bouncer had said he would be, but he wasn't on the phone. His shoulders were slumped and heavy against the brick wall and dirt ground into his back where his shirt had ridden up. One hand was over his face and the movement of his shoulders showed that he was breathing heavy, like he was crying? Or having a panic attack?

Brett shot in front of him, one arm on Justin's shoulder as he leaned down to try to catch his friend's eyes. They were screwed closed. Brett didn't care anymore, he didn't care who knew, if _Justin_ knew how he felt, he didn't care if it meant his friend would _hate_ him, he grabbed the taller man's hand and pulled it away from his face. His eyes shot open when Brett said,

"Justin, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, shakily. "I don't… I was…" He paused and shook his head. Brett straightened up as Justin started to push himself away from the wall. "I just came out for a minute to get some air and then my sister called and I lost track of time, and then –"

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Nothing's wrong She just wanted to say hi. I just… fuck, Brett, I'm a mess." Justin's chuckle was soft and broken. He leaned his head back and ran his fingers through his scruffy hair. "People who say sleep is for the weak are fucking _liars_. Sleep is for the lucky and the intelligent."

"Is it just insomnia?" Brett asked. "Or is something else going on?"

Justin chuckled again and shook his head, leaning back against the wall. His head tilted back and he fell quiet, looking at the sky. It was clear and cloudless but they still couldn't see the stars because of the city light. Even the moon looked dull. Brett stood unsurely for a moment, then leaned back against the wall beside his friend. He leaned close, gently touching his shoulder to Justin's, but this time, Brett didn't pull away. He stayed. Justin took in a slow, deep breath. For a long, long moment, it was just the two of them standing silently, watching the sky.

Then the gravel cracked under Justin's shoes and his feet shifted. Brett started to turn to ask if he was all right when suddenly all of Justin's weight fell against him and Brett nearly tumbled to the side. His arm shot out to steady his friend, wrapped around his shoulder and chest, and he cried out, "Shit, Justin, are you okay?"

Justin didn't respond immediately and Brett started to ease him to the ground to sit when suddenly he jerked back and shook his head, pressing the heel of his hand into his temple.

"Shit," he grumbled.

"We're going back to your house," Brett said. Justin's movements were slow when he shook his head again and looked at him quizzically. "You're not okay. You need to lie down and get some rest even if you can't get any sleep." Justin opened his mouth but Brett interrupted him. "You're not arguing with me. Not this time. We'll come out to the next show we can both get to."

Justin frowned, but then the gravel shifted under his feet again and he lost his balance. His hand shot out to the wall. Brett jerked forward, hands hovering at Justin's sides, but Justin caught himself. His head was angled low and his shoulders trembled as he steadied his breath.

"Okay," he murmured. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Brett ducked under Justin's outstretched arm and looped it over his shoulders, wrapping his around Justin's back. Justin was much bigger, even though he wasn't that much taller, so it was slow going back to the car, but Brett would rather it go slow than try to rush and end up with them both facedown on the pavement. Finally he was able to get Justin into the car. When he tried to buckle his seatbelt, his hands hovered unsurely in the air, and he looked at them, at the belt, at the fastener, like he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with them all. Brett snapped it together for him, trying to ignore the way his heart sped up when Justin leaned forward and pressed his forehead into his cheek.

_Not now. He needs me. This is serious._

But when he gently pushed Justin back into the seat, he couldn't help but brush his friend's hair out of his eyes, and it took every bit of self-control he had and even some he didn't to keep from kissing his forehead.

"It's okay," he whispered instead. "I'll have you home soon."

Justin mumbled something unintelligible in acknowledgement. His eyes were closed.

Brett closed the door and walked around to the driver's door.

The ride home was quiet. Brett tried to talk a little bit at first, but Justin was too tired to form words, so eventually Brett dropped it and let him rest. Justin's breath was slow and mostly even, but occasionally he grumbled softly or shifted slightly and Brett didn't blame him - his car was uncomfortable for sitting in, much less _sleeping_ in.

The driveway was still empty when they got back to the house. Nate wasn't home yet.

_That's going to make this a lot more difficult._

When Brett tried to get Justin out of his seat, he lurched forward and Brett stumbled back, just catching the door. Justin's hand shot to the side of the doorframe as he stumbled and they both stilled for a moment to steady themselves. Brett leaned back down to try again and managed to get Justin's arm around his shoulders and lean the taller man's weight against him as he leaned to the side to use the leverage to get him standing.

"I know you said you haven't been sleeping well," Brett said. He guided them to the front door. "Keys?"

Justin paused, processing, then fumbled in his pocket and drew them out. Brett took them.

"Have you gotten any sleep at all?" He unlocked the door and pushed it all the way open to give them plenty of space.

"Um." Justin paused and shook his head, eyes scrunched tightly closed. "A little. Like, twelve hours or so over the past week. A couple hours nap earlier."

"In a _week_? Oh, God, _Justin_."

Brett closed and locked the front door behind them and guided Justin to his bedroom. Thankfully he and Nate had always been neat, so the floor was clear. He didn't turn on the light - the blinds were open and the streetlamps outside gave just enough light that he could see what he was doing - and when Justin's knees hit the bed he jerked forward again, overcompensating and nearly knocking them both over. Brett pushed back, gently but firmly, with a soft, "It's okay, I've got you."

Justin's grip on Brett's arm relaxed and he let his friend lower him to the bed, but even though Brett tried to be reassuring Justin still kept trying to pull himself back up. With a little bit of gentle, not-quite-struggle, Justin ended up with his knees hanging off the bed and Brett's pulled up tight at his sides and now Justin's hands were curled in his shirt and he was so close and Brett could see the flutter of his friend's eyelashes as he tried to force himself back awake, Brett could feel Justin's breath on his face as his hitched and _oh God he smells so good -_

Brett's left foot slipped back a little too far when he pushed himself up. His arms shot out for balance and he righted himself. He turned away and pressed the side of his fist to his mouth and _breathed_ for a second, reorienting himself. When he turned back, Justin was exactly where he'd left him, asleep. With a soft sigh and a shake of his head, he gently gripped his friend's legs just below his knees, pulling him up and righting him so his whole body was on the bed. He was sprawled and ridiculous but at least he was sleeping. _Please, just be okay._

Justin's left arm stretched up, curled around one of his pillows, and he groaned softly and curled into himself. But he was still wearing his shoes and his belt and his shirt was sweaty and he was going to feel terrible when he woke up.

_But is it really my place to try to do anything about it?_

At least Brett could take off his shoes. He dropped them by the foot of the bed and removed his socks, too. If he could get Justin's belt off it would be more comfortable for him to breathe, but… was that weird? Would he be okay with that?

Brett gently rolled Justin onto his back, one hand on his shoulder as he sprawled into the bed beside, him, propped on his knees. "Hey," he whispered. "Can you hear me?"

He didn't open his eyes or reply verbally, but he nodded, just barely.

"Do you want a clean shirt?" That was a safe question, right?

He nodded again.

Brett glanced around the room, at the walls covered in flyers and posters from shows Justin had been to over the years, the acoustic guitar in the corner, the books organized by genre. It took a moment in the dim light, but he found and made his way over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Socks and boxers. The second drawer was mostly jeans. The third was full of shirts, mostly folded and stacked but with a few rolled up and shoved in the back corner. Brett grabbed the black one off the top.

For a long, awkward moment, Brett stood at the side of Justin's bed, the shirt loose in his hand. His friend was dead asleep. What should he do? Should he just leave him? Should he change his shirt for him?

Well, Justin was comfortable with having his shirt off around him. He'd done it before. So this… it was okay, right? _I'm not doing anything weird. I'm just putting him in a clean shirt._

Brett took a deep breath and sat down beside Justin, gently tugging him into a sitting position. His movements were slow, but he let Brett sit him up, and as the smaller man tugged off his shirt and pulled his clean one on, he explained what he was doing with each step, because even though he wasn't sure Justin could process it, he wanted to say it out loud, just in case. It didn't take long and he got it done without incident.

He dropped the dirty shirt to the side of the bed to deal with later and when he turned around, Justin was still sitting up. Brett gently pushed him down at the shoulder, back onto his pillow. "Lie down, Justin," he said. "I'm going to take your belt off so you're more comfortable and then I'll leave you alone, okay?"

Justin's eyes fluttered, but didn't open, and when his lips parted a little sound that wasn't quite a word came out. Brett moved down the bed and sat by his hip, unbuckling his belt, but when he tugged, it stuck. With one end in each hand, he tugged gently and whispered, "Up." Justin lifted his hips slightly and Brett slid the belt off, dropping it on the floor with his shoes. As he moved back up toward the head of the bed, Justin turned toward him, curling his arm into his chest.

"Will you be okay on your own?" Brett whispered. He gently ran his fingers through Justin's hair, just once, his knuckles brushing the side of his face. He didn't even think. It just felt right that way.

Then Justin's hand was curled around his wrist, loosely, and he murmured, "Don't go. Stay. Please."

Brett's breath caught. Justin's thumb was pressed right against the heel of his hand, almost in the cup of his palm, his fingers callused and hot. But still, Brett smiled, and he said, "Okay. But only if you sleep."

Justin's words were soft and vague when he said, "Mm-kay. Sleep too?"

"All right. I'll sleep too. But you've got to move over a little or I won't fit."

But he was still. Was he asleep again? Brett gently pushed his shoulder, hoping the pressure would urge him to move without waking him. Justin moved over, pressing his back against the wall. Brett kicked off his shoes and slid in beside him, teetering just on the edge of the bed, but Justin's hand was still around his wrist and slowly, over time, they both eased closer to the middle of the bed until Justin's fingers were curled into Brett's palm and their foreheads almost touched. Then Brett's fingers curled back and he ran his fingers through Justin's hair. It was so much _softer_ than he'd have expected.

Justin sighed softly and the corner of his mouth turned up, so Brett kept touching his hair and that's when he realized how _tired_ he was - Justin was definitely worse off, but he hadn't gotten much sleep last night, either. Very softly, under his breath, Brett started to sing - no lyrics or specific tune. Justin's smile tugged a little wider and he turned into Brett's hand until Brett's fingers were on his face, against the roughness of his beard and the warmth of his cheek.

Brett's singing started to slur and his eyes started to close, fluttering, halfway as he watched his friend, the light and shadows of the open blinds playing across his face, down his body. It wasn't something Brett ever thought he would find himself thinking about another man, but he was _beautiful_.

Sleep had him so drugged he couldn't bring himself to fight it and he didn't have it in him to keep trying to. He'd tell Justin in the morning. Once he was sure his friend was okay.

He moved his hand away from Justin's face to brush his hair out of his eyes and Justin's smile faded, his eyebrows drew together, and he made a soft sound that wasn't quite a whimper. Even though Brett knew it, it was only then that he _realized_ it.

Justin was strong and confident and brave and everything else Brett wished he could be, but sometimes, he got scared, too. He still worried, he still cried, he still had insecurities, and knowing that he wasn't untouchable comforted Brett somehow. When he ran his knuckles over Justin's bearded cheek, he relaxed again and Brett decided, yes, he'd tell Justin everything in the morning. Including how he felt. Justin was his best friend. He deserved to know. And even though he didn't feel the same way, it couldn't be bad to know someone cared about him, right?

Brett's singing slowed, then quieted into silence broken only by their breathing. His eyes finally closed. Justin's hand was still curled in his, and suddenly, it tightened.

Brett's eyes flew open. _Oh my God. He didn't just say that, did he?_

His eyes darted over Justin's face. His eyes were closed, his lips barely parted, shoulders gently, slowly rising and falling. He was asleep. He was talking in his sleep. But did… _Was he talking to me?_

Was he dreaming about someone else?

Brett stared silently, tensed, frozen, and suddenly his whole body shook with adrenaline and it shouldn't, not just because someone said something like…

_Oh my God. He loves me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure whether to warn for this, but better safe than sorry? Brett helps Justin change into some pajamas while Justin is half-asleep and can't fully consent, but he doesn't do anything inappropriate or take any advantage of Justin in any way.


	13. Chapter 13

Justin could see the light from behind his eyelids before they opened. This room was his room -- the bamboo sheets, the two body pillows, the way his body was angled on the bed.

_How did I get here?_

The bed wasn’t quite right. It was sagging on the side.

A hand on his shoulder.

He opened his eyes to a pair of grey ones _staring_ at him.

“Gah!” He jerked up instead of pulling back and his forehead slammed into Nate’s before the taller man managed to jump away. He crashed on the floor in a pile of lanky limbs. Justin groaned and grabbed his forehead, trying to rub the pain away as Nate sat up.

_Shit, man._ Nate groaned, rubbing at his head as he pushed himself up. _What the hell was that?_

“Sorry,” Justin mumbled. When he shook his head, his neck popped, and a wave of dizziness crashed through his stomach. He was in really bad shape, wasn’t he?

Nate pulled himself up on the side of the bed. _Are you okay?_ he signed.

Justin nodded. “Just a knock to the head. I’m fine.”

Nate didn’t reply. His eyebrows were drawn, his mouth pulled down in a worried frown. _That’s not what I mean. I mean with what happened last night. Are you okay?_

Justin opened his mouth to answer. Closed it again. His eyes darted over Nate’s face, then his angled down as he tried to remember, wait, what _did_ happen last night? He wasn’t drinking, so he couldn’t have blacked out. Why couldn’t he remember?

_You scared the shit out of me and Brett._

Again, Justin opened his mouth and closed it again. His eyebrows furrowed and his neck slowly went cold.

“I… what? I’m lost.”

_You really don’t remember?_ Nate’s mouth pulled down even more as his eyes darted over Justin’s face.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be asking you?” An unsure lilt turned the phrase into a question. Nate’s eyebrows drew a little tighter.

_Last night I had to leave early because Squeaker forgot her meds. When I got back to the venue you were gone and neither of you were answering your texts so I came home. You were both in here. You were sleeping like you were dead and Brett was just sort of lying next to you?_

Justin’s eyes widened. Nate continued, a little slower.

_And I’m not sure what happened because he was half-asleep, but apparently you got really bad last night shortly after the first band’s set and blacked out for a second. He brought you home. Put you to bed and everything._

Justin’s head whirled around the room, like Brett was hiding somewhere, about to jump out, and when his eyes rested back on Nate’s again, he asked, a little too quickly, “Where --”

_He’s gone._ Nate shrugged. _He was gone when I came in. I assume he had to work? Because it’s not like him to just disappear after something like that, you know?_

“Yeah,” Justin said softly, but it was distracted, because Brett was _sleeping next to him in his bed_? His eyes dropped to the floor to see his shirt and belt in a ruffled pile. His feet were bare. He… what? Brett helped him change clothes? He… _why_? Yes, they were friends, but that… that seemed almost like something more?

He groaned and pressed the heel of his hand into his temple. His headache was coming back. That didn’t make sense. _Justin, you’re just leading yourself on again._

_Come into the kitchen_. Nate finally stood and curled his hand around Justin’s arm, tugging him along. Justin went. _I’ll make some coffee and we can figure this out._

Justin nodded, following Nate through the living room to the table in the kitchen, rubbing at his forehead. Coffee wasn’t going to be enough. He needed some kind of medication for this, too.

“I’ll be right in,” he said, turning back to the bathroom.

Once he’d washed his face and popped three aspirin, he started to feel a little more human, and when he went back into the kitchen the bubble and smell of brewing coffee filled the room. Nate was at the table with his back to him. Justin took the chair across the way. The taller man was reading something.

Justin nodded at him. “What’s that?”

The smile Nate always wore was gone when he looked up. Justin’s dropped. A little hesitantly, Nate pushed the paper over. Justin’s eyebrows drew together and he looked at Nate nervously, then down at the paper. It was a note. It was in Brett’s handwriting, loose and loopy.

 

_Justin (if Nate is reading this, give it over to him):_

_I’m sorry I couldn’t stay, but I had to work the early shift today, and you know I can’t afford to miss work. My shift ends at 11:00. I’m going to come back to check on you once I get off. Until then, stay in bed and rest. You really need it. (Nate: again, if this is you, put Justin back in bed. Whatever he says, he needs to rest, even if he can’t get to sleep. Push him in and sit on him if you have to, but don’t let him leave the house.)_

_I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’m going to try to get off early but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to. Please stay there, I really need to talk to you about something important._

_Take care of yourself, and I’ll see you soon._

_Brett_

 

For a few seconds, Justin just stared blankly. Then he flipped the paper over. The back was blank. The script on the front was sloppy and shaky with a few misspelled words, like Brett’s hands were shaking badly when he wrote it, and when Justin looked closer, he saw that a few of the words were smudged and the paper was crumpled in a few places. Brett had been _crying_ when he wrote this.

_Oh, God._

What happened? What did he _do_? Justin screwed his eyes closed, the heels of his hands pressed hard into his temples as he tried to remember, anything he said, anything he did. What happened that would end up with Brett crying in the morning? What did he _do?_ Did he…

_Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck._

Had he said something about his feelings? Even worse, had he tried to _do_ something about it?

His eyes flew open and he asked Nate, “What did he say last night?”

Nate’s eyes went worried. The timer for the coffee pot went off. Neither of them moved.

_Just… just that you blacked out for a second and --_

“No, what did he say _exactly_?”

Nate raised his hands, paused, left them hanging unsurely in the air for a moment as he thought. Then he signed, _I mean, I can’t remember word for word, but it was something like,_ _‘After you left, he got really sick and blacked out so I brought him back here. It was only for a second, but I didn’t realize his insomnia was this bad. He asked me to stay with him so I did.’ But he was half asleep so it wasn’t really as coherent as all that. I told him thanks and said I could take care of you if he wanted to go home but he insisted on staying to make sure you were okay._

Justin looked down at the note, back up at Nate again. The tightness in his voice was sharp, like hot needles, and it was hard to swallow. “He _wanted_ to stay?” His voice was small, unsure. He looked back down at the note. “But…” He flipped it over again. Still blank on the back. “I don’t… he _wanted_ to stay? Then why was… why was he so upset? I don’t…” The headache was crawling back up through his neck and his fingers curled around his forehead, leaning down on the table. What the Hell was going on? Did he do… whatever it was he did, did he do it after Nate talked to him? He must have.

_What do you mean, upset?_ Nate’s hand movements were slow, unsure.

Justin looked up and shoved the paper over at him. “Look at it!” he shouted. “The words are all shaky and a bunch of them are misspelled and he was _crying_ when he wrote it, Nate. What the fuck did I _do_? What’s going _on_?”

The note said Brett was coming back, but he was one of Justin’s best friends. Brett was so much more than the man he loved, and if he lost him because of some stupid mistake he didn’t even realize he _made_ …

Suddenly his chest was tight and his throat started closing up and he curled his hand in his shirt as if that would help anything, but he didn’t even know what the situation _was_ , so how could he fix it?

_He said he’s coming back_.

Justin caught the signs from the corners of his vision and looked at Nate again. Nate stood, walking around the table and pressing his hand firmly between Justin’s shoulders. With his other hand, he continued to sign, _So, whatever happened, he’s coming back. So it couldn’t… it couldn’t be that bad, right?_

“I don’t know.” Justin’s words were soft, muffled by the fist curled in front of his mouth. “But then what does he want to talk about?” His voice cracked before Nate could answer and a heavy sob tore at his throat, dry and harsh. He choked it down but another one came out, and another, and everything he’d been carrying around for the past year -- for his whole _life_ \-- not just Brett, but the stresses of school, his family, being kicked out of the Church, it all curled in his chest, heavy and hot, but he would not cry. He _would not cry_. His parents always said that men didn’t cry. He could be thrown off a bridge, break every bone in his body, be repeatedly kicked in the groin with steel-toed boots, but if he was a real man, _he wouldn’t cry_.

Another sob ripped out of him and he squeezed his eyes closed tighter, then Nate’s arms were around his shoulders and his hand on the back of his head as he crouched down, gently pushing the smaller man’s forehead into his shoulder. Justin fought it as hard as he could, but it wasn’t enough and tears started to push out of his eyes anyway. He wrapped his arms back around Nate’s shoulders, curling his fingers into his friend’s shirt.

_Well fuck you, Mom. Fuck you, Dad. Sometimes, men_ do _cry._


	14. Chapter 14

_What have I done? What the_ fuck _have I done?_

How could he have run off like that and left Justin alone after what he’d said? What if Justin thought he hated him now? And that note he’d left, that stupid note, it should have just said that he’d had to go to work and would be back when he was off instead of that stupid, convoluted mess he’d left. What if Justin didn’t find it? What if he did but thought Brett hated him now?

_Why am I even running away?_ This was what Brett had _wanted_. He _wanted_ Justin to feel this way. He wanted Justin to love him and make him his and Brett wanted to _be_ his. If he was being honest with himself, he already was. He should have been elated that Justin felt the same way. And he was, but why was he also so scared?

Because that meant actively admitting his sexuality and acting on his feelings instead of just passively acknowledging them, and Brett didn’t know if he _could_.

_I royally fucked up this time._

Cass noticed Brett’s distractedness, his twitchiness, his inability to focus, and a half hour before the end of his shift she pulled him to the back and shoved him against the wall. For someone so thin and small, she had _arms_ on her.

“Talk,” she demanded. Brett glanced over her head, but the rest of the staff was just cleaning, stocking, completely ignoring them. Did she talk to them, first? Because this was pretty weird and it was unnerving that nobody seemed to notice.

“About?” Brett asked, but his voice broke when he did.

“About whatever it is that has you so freaked out. And if you like and try to say that it’s nothing, I will hurt you, Brett. Hell hath no fury like a teenage girl ignored.”

Brett couldn’t find it in himself to be angry with her for the threat, because right now, he’d deserve it.

“I,” he choked. He paused, cleared his throat, and as he took in a slow, shaky breath, Cass’s hands loosened from his shirt and she took a slow step back. “Justin, he… I…”

Her eyes widened. “Justin what?” Her voice dropped. “Did something happen? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” Brett admitted. He slumped back against the wall, but this time he didn’t bother to tug his hat down over his face, because he couldn’t hide anymore. “He… I… he’s been really sick recently and I was taking care of him last night and… and I just left, I just left him there after he said…”

Cass tilted her head back and forth slightly, eyebrows raised, silently asking, _Yes, and?_

“You were right,” Brett finally said. His voice caught, hot and heavy in his chest, and it burned when he forced it through his throat, spiky and sharp as it came off his tongue. ”You were right.” He threw up his hands and stood up straight. “About everything. He’s in love with me. And I feel the same way. And I couldn’t handle it, so I ran away without telling him so with the excuse that I had I get to work.” His throat was about to cave in, his voice was too high-pitched and his breathing came like he’d just run a marathon. He buried his face in his hands and took in another shaky breath. When he dropped them, Cass was no longer smiling.

“You can fix this,” she said, “but you _have_ to stop being stupid and start listening to me.” She was at least a half foot shorter than him, but with her finger just at his nose and her blue eyes locked on his, Brett had never felt so intimidated. He nodded.

“When your shift is over, you’re going back to his house. You’re going to sit down with him and the two of you are going to talk. Not this screwing around about stupid shit to avoid the issue talking, but honest to God, ripping your chests open and putting it all on the table talking. It’s going to be scary. It might hurt. But you both have to do this, and if what you said is true, clearly both of you morons feel the same way, so once you get over this, you’ll be all right. But first you have to get past what you just did, and to do that you’re going to have to be honest with him _and_ yourself.”

Brett swallowed. “Yeah.” It stuck on the dryness of his tongue. Cass glanced above his head at the clock. “You’ve got ten minutes,” she said. “As long as whoever’s going to take over your shift is here on time, you’ll be out of here soon.”

Brett grabbed her in a tight hug and she squeaked in surprise, but then laughed and awkwardly patted his shoulder. “Thanks, Cass,” he whispered. But she was tense and obviously uncomfortable, so he let go, and she took a step back because his back was still against the wall.

“Yeah, yeah,” she laughed. “Next time, just listen to me and we can avoid this part.” She gently tapped his shoulder and nudged him back toward the front. “Now, get back up there. The kitchen’s keeping an eye on the counter, but we’ve got stuff to do, too..”

“Yeah. Of course.”

The minutes dragged like hours, like _days_ , and the closer to 11:00 it got the more anxious _Brett_ became, knees a little weak, palms damp. But he had to do this. He _had_ to. He’d regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t. And oh, God, he _loved_ him, Justin Gibson _loved_ him, and for… for _months,_ Brett realized, he’d wanted him to say it, and now he _had_. Justin deserved the same honesty.

When his replacement came in, he raced out, even though she was two minutes early, because he had to get back, he had to see Justin, he had to tell his friend he felt the same way and put this right.

When he parked in front of Justin and Nate’s house and stepped out of his car, his nerves started to jangle again, but so much worse, because he was doing it now, he was _really doing this_. He stood at the door for at least five minutes before he finally knocked twice and rang the doorbell. Seconds later, Nate opened the door. His face was drawn tight in anger.

_Oh God, I really screwed up this time._

He grabbed Brett’s arm and jerked him inside.

“Nate, I --”

He could see how badly Nate wanted to throw him against the wall. His friend’s shoulders and arms were tight with restrained tension. Instead, his hand tightened around Brett’s arm for a moment before he let go and started typing on the tablet in his other hand.

_I don’t know what happened last night, and I don’t know what that note was all about, but my best friend has been in tears all morning because of that shit you pulled. I know you’ve been having a hard time, Brett, but you have no idea how hard Justin has had it recently, too, and I am so fucking sick of both of you right now that I just ahfkndng_

There was a string of random letters he hadn’t deleted from when he smacked the screen. He took it back and started over.

_You are going to apologize to him for running off, and you’re going to explain to him what the hell happened last night because he has no idea and he thinks he must have done something really fucking horrible. He has no idea why you want to talk to him or why you were so upset when you wrote that note._

“Oh, God,” Brett murmured. “Shit, I didn’t --”

He nearly dropped the tablet when Nate grabbed his arm again, dragging him back toward Justin’s room.

_There’s been a lot of ‘I didn’t’ recently. From both of you. And you are going to fix this, NOW._

He stopped in front of the door and knocked a few times, not angrily, exactly, insistently. He inched it open and peered inside. He cleared his throat.

“What?” Justin was curled up on his bed, his back to them, with one hand curled around over his own shoulder, like he was trying to give himself a hug. Even though Brett couldn’t see his face, it was clear in his body, how _tired_ he was, how sad and frustrated and _lonely_ , and it broke Brett’s heart to know it was his fault. _He_ did this.

“Hey,” he said softly. It caught in his throat and came out a little broken. Justin jumped up, whirling around, and when his eyes dropped on Brett’s face his mouth opened, but then his eyebrows drew together and it closed again.

“Brett?” Justin finally said. His voice was soft, shaky with so many emotions Brett wasn’t sure he could name them all.

“Hi,” he repeated.

Nate signed something that Brett didn’t understand, then took his shoulder and shook it gently. He moved out of the way and shoved Brett into the room. His hands flailed wildly in the air for a moment, his movements sharp and harsh, and then he slammed the door behind him so hard that the framed Dali print on the wall shook. Brett flinched.

“He said that neither of us is coming out until we settle this, and if we try, he’ll start swinging,” Justin said. Brett turned back to his friend. “In case you were wondering what that was all about.”

Justin was still sitting exactly where he had been, hands curled in his lap, eyes locked on his feet. Like he was ashamed. For a few minutes, Brett just stood there, and Justin sat as they both tried to figure out something to say, anything, that would eventually lead them into the conversation they knew they needed to have.

“I’m sorry,” Justin finally said. His voice cracked and he talked a little too fast, a little too high. “Brett, I’m so sorry. For whatever I did. I don’t remember. I was so out of it, I don’t remember anything past the phone call with my sister. I’m so sorry, I --”

“Can I sit down?” Brett interrupted softly, nodding toward the desk chair,

“Sure.” As Brett sat, Justin moved back toward the head of the bed, pressing his back into the corner, like he was trying to get as far away as possible, like he was afraid Brett would hurt him if he got too close. Seeing him so vulnerable, so scared, was almost physically painful. _And it’s all my fault._

“So you don’t remember what you said?” Brett finally asked. Now he was shaking, his hands, his voice. Maybe Justin didn’t even mean it. Maybe he really was talking in his sleep. The thought clawed sharp and tight at his chest, but it was too late. He had to keep going, whether Justin felt the same way or not.

Justin shook his head. “I don’t,” he said. “I don’t remember you bringing me home or putting me in bed or anything. Whatever it was, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be.” The rawness and desperation in Brett’s voice hurt, and the idea that Justin may not have meant it ripped a hole in his chest, in his stomach. “Please don’t apologize. _Please_. And I’m sorry for that disaster of a note I left. I should have just said I was going to work and would come back when I got off. I’m sorry it was such a mess. I’m sorry I freaked you out so much. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Justin watched him while he spoke, his brown eyes so soft, so wide, so _afraid_ , but slowly, even though his face stayed tense, his shoulders relaxed. Both of them were silent for a few minutes, until he said slowly, hesitantly, “What did I say? Last night?”

“You said…” Brett paused, swallowed, looked down at his hands. He didn’t look back up because he couldn’t deal with seeing the look on Justin’s face if he didn’t mean it. “You said you love me.”

He finally looked up at Justin’s sharp, ragged inhale. Justin buried his face in his hands and murmured, “Oh God. Oh God.”

“Justin, I --” But Brett cut himself off because he wasn’t sure what he was going to say, and this would be the worst time ever to speak without thinking. He took a deep, nervous breath. “Is… is that true?”

“I’m sorry,” Justin whispered, almost a sob. His whole body wrenched as he leaned forward into himself, curling into himself physically like Brett had emotionally, and oh, _oh_ , it _was_ true, it really, really _was_ …

“Don’t be.” Brett’s voice wrenched, too, heavy and shaky and almost a sob, but in relief, because Justin _did_ mean it, it was for _him_. He pushed himself out of the chair, his knees a little weak as he stumbled to the bed. He propped himself up on his arm as he rested the other on the back of Justin’s neck. Justin stilled, not even breathing. “Don’t be,” Brett repeated. “Please don’t. Don’t ever be sorry.”

Another long, long stretch of silence fell over the room, and then, slowly, Justin peeked out from behind his fingers. “What?” he whispered. His face was a little blurry and Brett thought his friend might have tears in his eyes, or, no, they were in his, because he was so _relieved_.

“I --” Brett started, but it caught in his throat as another sob. He cleared his throat and took one of Justin’s hands, gently pulling it away from his face. Justin looked at Brett’s hand like it was made of ice and his was fire and could easily destroy it at any moment, with both terror and love. His eyes met Brett’s again.

“What --” he started.

“I love you,” Brett interrupted. It burned and choked on its way out but when it _was_ out, oh, it was the best feeling in the _world_.

“ _What_?” Justin repeated, soft and breathless and disbelieving. “But… you’re --”

“Really, really closeted,” Brett laughed, just as breathless and a little scared. “I’m bi, Justin. I’ve just only dated women and never corrected anyone who assumed I was straight. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I kept meaning to. I was just… I wasn’t scared of how you’d react when I came out, I just, I knew I’d end up telling you how I feel and I thought...”

Justin laughed, wet and disbelieving but so, so happy, and he pushed himself up and threw his arms around Brett in the tightest, most perfect hug. This time, Brett knew he wasn’t imagining it when Justin kissed the top of his head. For a long time, they stood quietly, curled up in each other’s arms, Justin’s hands tight in Brett’s hair and Brett’s curled in the back of Justin’s shirt. When Justin pulled back, he slid his hands down to cup Brett’s face and Brett laughed softly, breathlessly, the happiest he’d ever been. He stood on his toes but when their foreheads touched, he hesitated.

Justin didn’t.

His kiss was so full of ferocity and passion and pent up affection and attraction Brett’s knees went weak and his brain momentarily shut down. He was an idiot. He was so, so stupid. Why would he ever have been _afraid_ of this?

His hands curled tighter in Justin’s shirt and he pulled him closer, closer, and he pulled a little too hard and stumbled back when Justin lost his footing but Brett didn’t stop kissing him, he never wanted to stop, his hot tongue and warm lips and the scratch of the taller man’s beard on his clean-shaven face and his hands, big and heavy and callused and _perfect_.

Somehow Brett ended up shoved against the door, the doorknob pressed against his hip, but he didn’t care because Justin’s whole body was flush against his, every line and angle. Brett’s hands slid down from Justin’s shoulders, to his back, his hips, and nestled in his back pockets, pulling him even closer still. Justin half-gasped, half-moaned into the Brett’s mouth and Brett’s hands curled and Justin’s was tight on the back of his neck, the other curled into his hip, protective, _perfect_.

When Justin pulled away, both of them were literally gasping for air, but one quick breath was all Brett needed before he pulled Justin back again, _again_ , oh this was perfect, he never wanted to stop kissing him or holding him close. He never wanted to let go. _Ever_.

Finally, they both had to pause, and Brett slumped against the door and Justin leaned against him, foreheads touching. Each of Justin’s exhales brushed against his mouth and he still tasted like him when his tongue darted out to his lips. For a few very long moments, they just breathed, tangled in each other.

“Do you --” Justin started, but then he laughed, soft, disbelieving, and when he opened his eyes there were so many emotions, love and relief and joy, but more than anything, _gratefulness_. “Do you have any idea, Brett, how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

“I’m sorry,” Brett said, but through the heavy sob of relief, he was laughing. “I’m sorry I’m so dumb. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.”

“Me, too.” Justin was laughing, too, and his whole body relaxed, so much of the stress that had been building up slowly seeping out and dissipating. Then, suddenly, all the stress left Brett’s body, too, and the only reason he could stand was because Justin was holding him against the door. He curled his arms around Justin’s shoulders and buried his face in his neck, laughing softly. Both of them were, because there were no words and they didn’t need any.

The only words Brett needed were:

“I love you.”

* * *

**END PART ONE**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, the end of Part One! You now have a choice: you can stop here and pretend everything is happy and good forever, or you can keep going to part two and see Brett and Justin's trials as a couple. There is still a happy ending! That was very important to me when I wrote this. It just takes them longer to get there.
> 
> Either way, thank you so much for reading along with me!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the beginning of part two! Thank you for coming with me this far!

 

 

 

**Part Two**

 

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Nora!! It says you’re online so you’d better be by your computer because I have the best news!!

 

It had been a week and sometimes Justin still couldn’t believe it. Brett Walker _loved_ him. Brett Walker loved _him_.

It didn’t fix any of the other problems in his life. His family was still his family. His educational goals were still nonexistent. His insomnia wasn’t as bad, but it was still a problem. But that was all a little easier to deal with now, because, life was, in the literal sense of the word, _awesome_. _He loves me._

Sometimes Justin didn’t think Brett realized how much that meant, but when it was just the two of them, alone, and his boyfriend -- his boyfriend! -- curled into him with no hesitation, leaning his head on his shoulder or kicking his leg over his lap and nuzzling into his stomach like he belonged there -- and he _did_ \-- Justin knew that, yes, Brett _did_ realize, because he felt the same way. And it was amazing. In the billions of people that existed, the fact that the two of them, who could clearly both be huge idiots about this kind of thing, found each other and felt the same way? Justin still wasn’t sure if he believed in God, but he stuck to his belief that there was something bigger nudging things around.

 

**AreYouThereGod** : Justin!! What is it?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : So, remember Brett?

**AreYouThereGod** : Of course!

**AreYouThereGod** : OHGOSHOHGOSH Justin really?? :D

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Yes!

**AreYouThereGod** : Okay so I definitely just shrieked “ERIKA MY BROTHER FINALLY GOT WITH THE MAN OF HIS DREAMS”

**AreYouThereGod** : And she said “That’s great! I’m so happy for him!! But I still need you to do the dishes.”

**AreYouThereGod** : This is what you have to look forward to!

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Haha. True love.

**AreYouThereGod** : <3

**AreYouThereGod** : True love isn’t just gazing wistfully into each other’s eyes and having sex all the time. True love is taking him to the doctor when he’s sick and cooking dinner and going grocery shopping with each other and trying to decide whether to go on automatic bill pay for the electric and whose credit card to use for it and sharing t-shirts because you should have done laundry a week ago and still being crazy about each other anyway.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : That actually sounds really awesome. I would love to have that.

**AreYouThereGod** : :)

**AreYouThereGod** : Well, hopefully you do.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I think so.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I mean, I know we’re still in the honeymoon stage because it’s been like, a week, if that. But… we’ve been really close for a really long time anyway. And I can see us like that.

 

Justin thought that should make him nervous. Monogamy? Commitment? It was a complete switch from how he’d handled his relationships up to that point, but it didn’t scare him at all. He was so tired of the drama and the guessing involved with all of it. He was _ready_ for this.

 

**DominatedLoveSlave** : So, about me coming out for my birthday?

**AreYouThereGod** : Are you going to be able to?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Pretty sure. I just wanted to coordinate the best time for you.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Is it okay if I invite Brett?

**AreYouThereGod** : Of course!!

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Actually, do you mind switching to video chat? I would really love to see your face right now.

**AreYouThereGod** : Okay, just give me a minute.

**AreYouThereGod** : Not wearing a shirt, oops. You probably aren’t interested in anyone’s boobs, much less your sister’s!

 

Justin laughed. Not long later, Nora sent a chat request. Justin turned his music off and accepted.

“Justin! Hi!”

Oh, _wow_. He hadn’t seen her since she started hormone therapy, with the exception of that one picture, but both she and Erika were wrapped up in heavy coats so all he could see was her face.

She looked so _different_.

“You look…” He paused, trying to figure out the word he wanted. “You look _great_.”

She grinned, bright and beaming. Her face was softer, rounder, her skin was smoother, and she’d grown her hair out to just past shoulder length and it swooped slightly over the right side of her face. It was the same dark brown, but shiner, better cared for. Her too-big Placebo concert shirt mostly obscured her chest, but apparently she had changed a lot there, too. But mostly, what he noticed was --

“I’ve never seen you this happy,” he murmured.

She grinned again and Justin’s smile widened.

“You look like you’ve always been this way,” he said. “Like, if I hadn’t known you before the hormones, I’d have never guessed.”

“I _have_ always been this way,” she said softly. “My body is just finally starting to look more how it should. More changes are coming, but it’s a process. Hopefully my chest will get a little bigger! They’re so small right now.” She grinned when he laughed. “But oh, man, Justin, be grateful you never had to deal with it. I love it but it freaking _hurt_ when they started to come in.”

“Your voice sounds different.” It was softer, husky, still kind of deep but more lilting, now. A little more androgynous. “Is that the hormones?”

“Speech training. Hormones don’t change your voice much unless you’re going the other way around.”

“Oh. I don’t know anything about it, so --”

“I know,” she grinned. “It’s okay. Most people don’t. If you have any questions, don’t be afraid. I don’t mind educating as long as you’re not being a jerk!”

Justin laughed again. “God, I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. I’m sorry I left. But --”

“But you had to,” he finished. “I know. Trust me, I understand. I don’t hold it against you. Ever. Promise.”

Nora’s smile softened. She nodded. The brightness came back to her face when she said, “So, you and Brett are coming to visit, right? When? For how long?”

“I wanted to talk to you about that before I requested the time off,” Justin said. “Late June, early July would be best for me. I wanted to coordinate a time between the four of us to figure out what would work best.”

“Well, I can tell you now the best Erika can probably do is a three day weekend. She’s an accountant for the state and that’s a really busy time for them so she probably won’t be able to get the full week. Right now I’m still at the clinic working the desk and I’m not very important so a week should be doable for me. I’d say… maybe the second week of July? I don’t want you here on the fourth, it’s too crazy.”

“That should be okay. I’ll talk to Brett when I see him later. How about the 7th through the 14th? Friday to Friday?”

“But the 16th is only two days later!” Nora pouted. “You really can’t push it two more days?”

“I don’t think so.” Justin shrugged. “And… just, if I’m out there on the day of my birthday, what if Mom insists on coming, too? We all had to miss your graduation and she feels really bad about that. I mean… would you…”

He trailed off, leaving the question hanging silently. _Would you be ready to come out?_

Nora bit the corner of her lip and looked down. “You’re right,” she whispered. “I… I know I have to tell them eventually. I just…” She sighed and scrubbed at her face with her hands, like she was trying to wash away all the expectations their parents had piled on both of them since they were children. “I… I know how they’ll react. They were bad with you, really bad, but… this would be even worse. And I don’t know how to deal with that so I keep finding ways to avoid it. Emails instead of phone calls. No, Mom, I don’t have that Skype thing, sorry. No, I can’t make it to Christmas this year, I have to work the days before and after. I know I can only make excuses for so long, but… I just…”

“I know,” Justin whispered. When he came out, he was young, maybe too young to truly understand the consequences. He had no way of grasping how serious the Church’s reaction would be. Being disowned had never crossed his mind because it was never an idea he’d been introduced to, but looking back, it came really, really close to happening. Nora was with him for every abuse, every slur, every threat, every therapy appointment. She’d seen it and she knew what to expect. Even within the queer community, transgender people were often treated like shit. By their homophobic, racist parents? It’d be a disaster.

“What about Erika’s family?” Justin asked.

Nora looked up again and smiled. There were tears in her eyes, but she wasn’t crying. Justin wished more than anything he could be there with her right then.

“They know she’s gay. They don’t know I’m trans. We’ve met and they like me and they’re totally okay with our relationship. I don’t really want them to know, honestly. I don’t want anyone to know. I just want to be a regular woman.”

“I understand,” Justin said.

Nora shook her head and her voice cracked when she said, “No, you don’t. But you’re supportive and you care. And that means so much to me.”

Then, Erika called something from the other room and Nora called back, “Okay, I know. Be there in a minute!” When she turned back to her brother, her eyes were dry again.

“I have to go,” she said. “Erika really needs me to get these dishes done so she can start on this cake for her sister’s birthday and it _is_ my turn. But send me a text once you’ve got your days confirmed and then I can request mine and we’ll see what Erika can do.”

“Okay.”

Nora smiled, kissed the tips of her fingers, pressed them to the screen, and logged off.

For a while, Justin sat and stared at his contacts list, not thinking about anything. It was because of Nora that he’d made it through high school. While his parents were trying to force him into reparative therapy and exorcise him and calling him a faggot, she was getting him a real therapist and being his advocate when he was bullied in school and researching gay friendly churches, should he want to stay in the religion, which he still hadn’t decided, seven years later.

Even though they lived in different states now, he was going to be hers. It was possible, maybe even likely, that this would be the last straw for his family and they’d cut ties with both of them. There was still the chance things could get better with his mom, but maybe it would be better if the two of them were just cut out. Or if they could cut the rest of the family out.

Justin sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the clock in the corner of the screen. Brett would be out of work in about ten minutes, so he’d be over in a half hour or so. Nate was at work. _Maybe I should look into community colleges and think about signing up for a class or two._ Maybe he could finally take a photography course. He’d always wanted to learn.

What he shouldn’t do was pick up the phone and call his mom.

He did anyway.

It went to voicemail. He hung up. But less than a minute later, she called back.

“Justin, hi!” she said. “Did you just call?”

“Yeah. Hi, Mom.”

“I’m so happy to hear from you! I’m sorry I missed you, I was on the other side of the house.”

Justin smiled, small, tentative. “It’s okay. I, uh, I don’t really have anything important to talk about. I just thought I’d say hi because I haven’t in a while and I know things get kind of lonely when Dad’s at work for the day.”

“Well, that’s okay,” she said. “Would you like to come over for lunch tomorrow, maybe?”

“I can’t.” He shouldn’t lie, he shouldn’t leave her stranded. But he couldn’t do things in their house, on their terms. He had to meet her in a neutral place. He learned that a long time ago. “Not tomorrow.” He should have left it there, he should have stopped talking, but he didn’t. “Maybe we could meet somewhere Monday afternoon? There’s this great restaurant not too far from my school I think you’d like.”

“Oh!” Her voice was so surprised, so _happy_ , and even though he would probably regret it by the end of the meal, for now, Justin was glad he’d offered. “I would love that! I miss you and your brother so much, Justin. I wish we could see you more often.”

“How’s Dad?”

“Oh, he’s fine.” Something about her voice changed slightly, a little airier, noncommittal. Like she was brushing it off. This was the voice she used when she said, _oh, we don’t talk about that._

Justin didn’t know what that meant, but it made his skin tight with nerves. Maybe he could get it out of her on Monday. Or maybe they would just avoid it, like they avoided everything. This might be another one of those things that got put in the pile under the rug, like his sexual orientation or Nora’s interracial relationship, like his aunt’s divorce or his cousin’s drug addiction. _Oh, we don’t talk about that_.

His phone beeped and he pulled it away from his ear to see who the other call was from. It was Brett.

“Hey, Mom, I’ve got another call so I have to go, but I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon to figure out Monday, okay?”

“Okay, sweetie. I’ll talk to you then. I love you!”

The ‘I love you’ took him so off guard that for a moment, he couldn’t respond. She hadn’t told him she loved him in at least two years. Not since he moved out. Not for a long time before that. What the Hell was going on with his dad? They had to be related.

“Love you, too,” he finally stammered. He switched over to Brett’s call. “Hello? You still there?”

“Hey, Justin!”

Justin smiled, but his insides were shaking and his skin crawled with nerves.

“You still coming over?”

“Yeah, but there was a spill at work and I got covered in red sauce so I’m really gross and need to stop home for a shower and a change of clothes first, so I’m going to be a little late.” He paused. “Wait, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your voice is shaking. Are you okay?”

Justin swallowed, hard, and it felt like glass. “Yeah,” he said. He _thought_ it was true. “I just, I --” He paused again, giving himself a moment so he wouldn’t keep stammering. “My mom just told me she loves me.”

Brett was silent, then said slowly, hesitantly, “Is… is that not a thing that usually happens?”

“Not in years,” Justin said. “Since I was… maybe sixteen or so? I can’t even remember.”

“I…” Brett fell silent again. “I don’t… I mean, is this a good thing? You don’t talk about your family so I don’t have a frame of reference.”

”I don’t know?” Justin was so unsure it came out a question. He walked from his desk chair to his bed, but didn’t sit. He hovered. He started to pace. “I… I think something’s going on with my dad, but my mom’s not talking about it?” He sighed and pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead. “Nobody in this fucking family _talks_ to each other, Brett, so I never know what’s going on and I have to speculate about _everything_. My sister is the only person I can have an actual conversation with.”

“If you’re okay with me using your shower and borrowing some clothes, I can come over now,” Brett offered.

“Whatever you want to do.”

“That’s not an acceptable response.” There was a smile in Brett’s voice, and oh, God, even though it was such a small thing, the amount of comfort it gave Justin was incredible.

“I mean, yeah, if you’d be okay with that, I’d be okay with it.”

“Okay. Are you okay or do you need me on the phone or…?”

“I’ll be okay,” Justin said. “I know you don’t like talking on the phone while you drive. It’ll give me a little time to call my sister and see if she knows what’s going on.”

“All right. I’ll be over soon.”

“All right. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Justin hung up and dialed Nora’s number, since she wouldn’t be at her computer and he didn’t want to wait for her to get back and check her email. After a couple of rings, a woman picked up and said, “Hey, just a second and I’ll get her for you, okay?”

“Okay.”

Justin had never heard Erika’s voice before, except in the background during his Skype conversation with Nora earlier. She had a little bit of a… maybe it was Bostonian? A little bit of an accent that he couldn’t place but was definitely from somewhere on the East Coast. Maybe her family was from there? Justin didn’t know anything about her past, just her present and her relationship with Nora now.

“Hey, Justin, what’s up?” Nora’s voice snapped him back into his head.

“Hey, I know you have some stuff to do but I just got off the phone with Mom and --”

“What happened?” Her voice was tight, afraid. Her voice went soft and fuzzy when she said, “Erika, I really have to take this, but the stuff you need is done and I’ll finish the rest later, okay?”

“I wanted to talk to you about that?” Justin said unsurely. “I think something’s going on with Dad. Mom and I didn’t really talk about anything, but when I asked how he was doing, she used that voice, you know --”

“The ‘we don’t talk about that’ voice?”

“Yeah.”

“ _Shit_.”

Justin’s hand snapped to his mouth, curled against his lips. She never swore.

“I don’t know, Justin,” she said. Her words were tense, clipped, nervous. “I haven’t talked to Dad in like…” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was soft. “In over a _year_ , I think. I mean, I email them but Mom’s always the one to write back and she just signs for both of them. I never really paid it much attention.”

“Yeah, I haven’t talked to him since maybe a month or two after I moved out. I don’t talk to Mom much, either, so I never --”

“Yeah.”

“So I take it you haven’t heard anything, then?” Justin asked.

“No,” Nora said. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

“You…” Justin paused, trying to figure out how to phrase it, but he couldn’t, so he just said, “I’m the only one you’ve come out to, right? I mean, that knows everyone? There’s no way they could have found out, right?”

“Oh, no. Oh, _shit._ Do you think that’s what it is?” Her voice was too fast, shaking. “I mean, I have no idea how they could know, unless you --”

“No,” Justin said firmly. “I’d never out you, Nora. I haven’t said a word to anyone but Nate and Brett and Brett doesn’t know anyone and Nate wouldn’t never tell them anything. I… I don’t know. I mean, if Dad were sick or something, Mom would tell us. It can’t be that. It has to… I mean, it has to related to one of us somehow, right? The only other thing I can think of is marital problems, like, if one of them is cheating or they’re getting a divorce or something, but --”

“No way,” Nora interrupted. “You remember how they were when Aunt Carol got divorced. They’d die married and hating each other first.” They fell quiet.

“Goddammit,” Justin groaned. “I wish they would just fucking _talk_ to us.”

Nora sighed, soft, frustrated, with a little bit of a whine at the back of her throat. “Well,” she said, “Mom hasn’t said anything to make me think she knows about my transition. And I really think if that were it she would have called me to tell me I’m going to burn in Hell for being a sex pervert or something. And, I mean, they’re still the same with you, right? You being gay is still just a thing nobody talks about, right?”

“I… guess?” He curled his free hand around his arm, pulling himself into a weak half-hug. She didn’t mean anything by it, and she was right, it _was_ how their family treated the whole situation. But hearing it out loud still cut like glass. His mother’s voice, sharp, still branded in his mind: _This is shameful. You should be disgusted by yourself_.

“I mean, nobody’s brought it up?” His voice caught, clawing at his mouth as he spoke. “Not to my face, at least. I never know what anybody’s doing or thinking. Nobody fucking _communicates_ , Nora, and it drives me fucking _crazy_.”

“I know.” She sounded as frustrated and he felt. “If I hear anything I’ll let you know right away. But right now I’m just as clueless as you are.”

Justin half-sighed, half-grunted in frustration. “Well, I’m going to see Mom on Monday so I’ll see if I can get it out of her then. But, like I said, he’s not sick and nobody is dead or we’d know about it, so at least we know that much.”

“Yeah.”

He sighed and murmured, “Well, thanks anyway. I’ll let you know if I figure anything out, but I’ve got to go. Brett’s going to be here soon.”

“Okay. I guess that means I’ll go finish the dishes, then. Thanks, Justin!”

Justin laughed. “Hey, that’s true love, right?”

“Yeah,” Nora laughed. “I guess so. True love is doing all the regular stuff you have to do to get through life, but doing it with someone else instead of by yourself. And if they’re willing to hold your hair back while you puke, even if it’s getting on their shoes, you _know_.”

_“What_?” Justin laughed.

“I got really drunk at an afterparty Erika and I went to after the Rainbow Festival,” she explained. “And I puked all over her favorite shoes, and the first thing out of her mouth was, ‘Are you okay?’ That’s when you know, Justin. You sink in your teeth and don’t let go.”

“Okay, thanks for the advice.” He didn’t mention that Brett only wore flip-flops unless he had no other choice.

Two knocks came at the door and the bell chimed, so Justin said, “Brett’s here, so I have to go. I’ll keep in touch, okay?”

“Okay,” Nora said. “Take care of yourself.”

“You, too.”

Justin hung up the phone and dropped it on his desk as he walked by on his way to the front door. When he opened it to see Brett standing there, his boyfriend gave a weak, bashful smile. The front of his shirt and top of his pants were covered in salsa.

“What --“

“I don’t even want to talk about it,” Brett said as he stepped inside. “The new guy wasn’t paying attention and I was trying to get some stuff from the stockroom in the back and --” He gestured broadly at himself and rolled his eyes with a shrug.

Justin leaned closer to give him a quick kiss, careful not to get his own clothes dirty. Brett smiled, a little bashful, but so happy, and Justin grinned back.

“Go ahead and hop in the shower,” he said. “I’ll grab you some clothes. Clean towels are on the top shelf. You’ll see them.”

“Thanks,” Brett said. His shoulders relaxed. Justin rested his hand on his boyfriend’s lower back and nudged him off as he turned back to his room.

Justin didn’t pay much attention to the shirt he grabbed, but instead of jeans, he picked up a pair of drawstring pajama pants, since he was at least two sizes bigger than Brett. He’d known Brett was thin, but he didn’t realize _how_ thin until he was finally able to touch his boyfriend like he had the past week.

When he knocked on the bathroom door, Brett called out, “Just drop them on the floor by the door, I guess? Don’t… don’t come in, please. Sorry.”

Justin inched the door open just far enough to stick his hand through and said, “It’s cool. Don’t apologize.” And he meant it, even though he really _did_ want to go in, but just because they were dating now didn’t mean he could do whatever he wanted. If anything, it was even more reason to respect his boundaries.

“Thanks. I’ll make it quick.”

“Take your time. It sounds like you had a long day.”

Justin closed the door behind him and went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, then back to his room to mess around on his computer while he waited.

A few minutes later, the bathroom door creaked open, then eventually there was the light pad of feet on his bedroom carpet. He was about to turn around when Brett wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pressed his nose into Justin’s hair. Justin leaned back into him and Brett’s arms tightened and for that moment, Justin could forget his family problems. He was safe and everything was beautiful. Brett smelled like his shampoo and was wearing his clothes and something about that was so… _intimate_.

“Hey,” Justin said.

“Hey.” Brett’s muffled voice and the movement of his chin on top of his head made Justin laugh. He leaned back and Brett leaned forward and kissed Justin’s forehead. Their noses brushed. Brett’s lips curled into a smile against Justin’s skin, and he smiled back.

“So, my sister invited us to San Francisco for a week in July,” he said. “We were thinking the 7th through the 14th. Can you do that?”

Brett stood up and his arms fell away as Justin spun his chair to face his boyfriend. “You want me to go with you?”

Justin raised an eyebrow, confused at his confusion. “Yes?” he said. “I mean, of course. She wants to meet you and her girlfriend wants to meet me and I’ve been wanting to go up, so, why not all at once, right?”

A bright, joyful grin broke across Brett’s face. “Oh, man, I would _love_ that,” he said. “I would love to go to the theatre district if we have time. About this time last year they had Spamalot there. Maybe it’ll be back again!”

A matching grin spread across Justin’s face. “We’ll look into it. We’ll definitely take a night to see something, though.”

Brett paused, then frowned and looked down at his left hand, fingers barely twitching. “I don’t know if I can take a whole week off,” he murmured. “I’m barely making my bills as it is.” He looked back up at Justin. “Would we fly or drive?”

“I was thinking of just driving,” Justin said. “That way we don’t have to rent a car if we want to go somewhere they don’t.”

“Do they live in the city proper?”

“No, on the outskirts.”

“Well,” Brett said, “that’ll make driving a little easier.”

“We’d be staying with them, so we won’t have to pay for a hotel. We can take my car.” Justin paused. Brett was still hesitant, sad that he had to be. “I’ll pay for everything. I know you’re worried about losing a week’s pay and that’s a big deal, but I’ll pay for food, for theatre tickets, everything.”

Brett’s eyebrows drew together and his mouth pulled down in a soft frown. He opened it, but Justin didn’t let him protest.

“ _Please_ ,” he said. “Let me do this for you. You work so _hard_ , Brett, and you deserve a break. I want to help you make that happen.”

Brett opened his mouth again. Closed it. “Give me tonight to draw up a budget for the month,” he finally said. “I’ll see if I can make it work. I really want to go, Justin, I do. But --”

“I know,” Justin said. “I know they don’t pay you enough and I know you’d be losing a lot of money if you take a full week. But if you can manage it, I really want you to come with me, and I want you to let me pay for the trip so you can.”

For a long, quiet moment, Brett’s eyes darted over Justin’s face, but then he smiled again, so _bright_ , like sunshine on the first day of spring. “Thank you,” he whispered. His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, but he couldn’t hide the sudden shine in his eyes. “Thank you, Justin. That’s... oh, man, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s offered to do for me in _years_. I… thank you. Thank you.”

Justin stood and pulled his boyfriend into a hug. The yellow shirt he loaned him was too loose and the pants bunched up around his ankles and it made Brett look so much smaller, sweeter, and more than anything Justin wanted to take care of him. All he wanted was for Brett to be happy. The smaller man wrapped his arms around him, hands curled into Justin’s shirt, nose warm in the curve of his neck, hair loose and damp against his skin.

“Thank you,” he whispered again.

And then Brett was kissing him. The suddenness of it took Jusitn so off guard he almost stumbled back into the chair behind him. Brett’s hands were tight on his shoulders and even though he was gentle, he was insistent, and oh, God, his lips, the skin of his neck, his hair tangled in Justin’s fingers, everything about him was so _soft_ , even though his body was flat planes and hard angles. Was all of his skin like this? What would it be like to kiss and run his hands all over it? But it was obvious Brett wasn’t ready for that.

When Justin kissed Brett’s jaw, the shorter man sighed softly, and when he trailed kisses down Brett’s neck, Brett squeaked and simultaneously curled in and pushed back. Justin paused, but didn’t pull away. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Your beard just tickles, that’s all.”

Justin grinned and rubbed his face against Brett’s neck. His yelp was the most hilarious and adorable thing Justin had ever heard. One of Brett’s hands gripped tight to Justin’s shoulder as the other pushed the opposite away.

“Are you pushing me away or pulling me closer?” Justin laughed.

“I don’t know!” Brett shouted, but he was laughing, too.

Justin bit Brett’s neck, gently, playfully, and Brett yelped again and his hands tightened on Justin’s shoulders. Brett was still laughing, but a little breathless, now. Justin filed it away for later. He nipped again and then Brett’s hands were curled in his sides and his fingers hit something and _Holy shit since when have I been ticklish?_

Justin’s mouth loosened and he stumbled forward when he laughed and Brett dug his fingers in again, and then they were both sprawled out on the bed and Justin’s hand was on Brett’s face as he tried to hold his boyfriend at arm’s length and all there was was laughter and joy and the pure, simple perfectness of connection, whole and complete.


	16. Chapter 16

Brett stood quietly in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection. It was floor length, so he could see every imperfection, everything he hated. He curled his hand over his throat because even though it should have unnerved him, instead, it comforted him.

He was slightly pigeon-toed. He always had been, ever since childhood. He wasn’t tall enough, his nose was too sharp, his arms too thin but his stomach too round.

He knew better than this. He needed to turn around and get some clothes on and call someone to talk himself through this. This was how it started in high school, and he’d almost starved himself to death.

Everyone on his treatment team said anorexia was a curable disease, but he wasn’t sure that was always true. It was sometimes, certainly. He’d known success stories in his time in group therapy. But he wasn’t one of them. The disordered thinking was so inextricably linked to his body dysmorphic disorder that it was probably something that would follow him forever. No amount of therapy could cure that.

Brett wasn’t sure what Justin saw in him. Justin seemed to feel the same way about Brett as Brett did about him, but… why? He was smart, he was talented, yes. But when Justin said he was gorgeous, it _hurt_ , because even though he wasn’t lying, he really believed it, Brett knew it wasn’t true. For so long, he’d thought he wasn’t good enough, but even now that Justin said he was, he just… even when Justin kissed him, with one hand on the small of his back and the other tangled in his hair, even then, sometimes it still gnawed at the back of Brett’s neck. He was ugly and it was only a matter of time until Justin realized it.

He hated feeling this way, because there were so many good things about him. He was smart, he was talented, he was kind, he was generous, he cared deeply about people and always tried to help them when he could. He was so much more than his physical appearance. More than anything, he didn’t want to care that he was ugly, because all of those other things were so much more valuable. But eventually it all came back to his looks.

He forced himself away from the mirror. In the back of his mind, he could almost heat the snap of the mental cords holding him as they broke. Before he called anyone, he decided to see if someone was online, because through IM he could think about what he wanted to say before he sent it.

Justin was on, but Brett didn’t want him to know. He wasn’t relapsing, he just… wasn’t in a good place. He needed someone who understood without explanations. Annie was offline, and Brett groaned, because she’d always understood, she’d always known exactly what to say.

Darcey was logged in. He wasn’t as good with words, and he was tactless, but he cared, and Brett needed that.

He opened a new window and sent him a message.

 

**Mister_Cellophane** : Hey, do you have a few minutes?

**SincerelyMe** : What’s wrong?

 

A soft huff of a sigh broke through Brett’s lips, but he smiled a little. Tactless. But he loved Darcey, anyway.

 

**Mister_Cellophane** : I’m slipping.

**SincerelyMe** : What do you need?

 

Brett was grateful that he knew exactly what he meant. That Darcey didn’t make him explain or go into specifics.

 

**Mister_Cellophane** : A bathroom without a full length mirror, for one.

**SincerelyMe** : Oh, G-d, that sucks.

**SincerelyMe** : I’m so sorry. Maybe put a sheet over it or something?

**Mister_Cellophane** : I don’t know. Not unless I have to? I feel like… I don’t know, like that might be worse, actually.

**SincerelyMe** : Okay.

**SincerelyMe** : Have you been eating?

**Mister_Cellophane** : Yeah. This just started today. I’m trying really hard to cook from scratch so I don’t have many nutritional labels in the house. And any time I bring oil or butter or anything like that in I put it in a new container and throw the old one away so I can’t obsess over it.

**SincerelyMe** : Well, that’s good.

**SincerelyMe** : Watch your exercise. Don’t be crazy. It’s probably starting to get pretty hot there, now.

**Mister_Cellophane** : I know.

**Mister_Cellophane** : Have you heard anything about when you get to come home?

**SincerelyMe** : I’ll let you change the subject now, but I’m not dropping it until I’m sure you’ll be okay.

 

Brett smiled, even though it was small. It helped. Maybe tactless was what he needed.

 

**SincerelyMe** : Mid-August, for sure. No date set but it’ll definitely be then.

**Mister_Cellophane** : So only a few months!

**Mister_Cellophane** : I’m so glad you’re coming home. We’ve missed you like crazy.

**SincerelyMe** : I’ve missed you guys, too. It’s okay here, but… It’s not home. It never has been.

**SincerelyMe** : I have nothing but respect for people who make a lifelong career out of this because I’m so done by this point.

**SincerelyMe** : Returning to civilian life will definitely be an adjustment, but I think I’m ready to be boring for a while. I'm ready to be Darcey the student instead of First Class Private.

**Mister_Cellophane** : Is everything okay over there?

**SincerelyMe** : Fine.

 

Brett knew he wasn’t going to get more than that out of him, at least not over any text medium. Maybe if he got Darcey in a video call, maybe on the phone, but not like this. For now, he let it drop, because even though it was selfish, he couldn’t take Darcey’s problems on top of his own just then.

 

**SincerelyMe** : Do you think you need to call your old therapist? You're still insured, right?

**Mister_Cellophane** : As long as I stay a full time student. I think the cutoff for Dad's plan is 24? 25? I've got at least one more year.

**SincerelyMe** : Do you want to go back and see her?

**Mister_Cellophane** : I think I'm okay.

**SincerelyMe** : If it's because of money I'll pay for it. This is important.

**Mister_Cellophane** : No, no. It's not money. I mean, it's tight, and I'm taking a week off in July to go to San Francisco, so it'll get tighter, but I'm okay. I just don't think that's what I need right now.

**SincerelyMe** : Well, okay, I guess. You know yourself better than I do.

 

The conversation went dead. The room was so quiet, Brett jumped when Darcey sent him another message.

 

**SincerelyMe** : So, San Francisco? What's up there? Visiting someone or just taking a break?

**Mister_Cellophane** : Just taking a road trip with some friends.

**SincerelyMe** : Cool. I've been to San Diego but never up north. It was nice.

 

He was the biggest asshole in the world for lying, for thinking so poorly of Darcey that he was afraid of how his cousin would react. Darcey had been his best friend since he was born. He was family. He was crass and rude and he swore a lot, but he was a good person, one of the kindest Brett knew, and he wouldn’t… he _wouldn’t_.

Brett wasn’t sure what he was afraid of, but he was sure it terrified him.

_I wish I knew more people in this area._ He didn’t want to be alone. He glanced at his phone next to his keyboard, back at his conversation with Darcey, fallen into another lull.

He picked up the phone and called Justin. No answer. Brett left a quick message, vague, basic, so he wouldn’t worry.

“Hey, I was just wondering if you wanted to come over if you’re not doing anything. Give me a call back.”

He hung up and started at the phone for a while. His dad worked on Saturdays so he wouldn’t be able to talk. Cass did, too. Maybe Nate?

Just as he was about to go into his phone book to find his friend’s number, he got a text. It was from Justin.

_sorry can’t talk right now but ill be out of work in 15 call you then love you_

Fifteen minutes. He could manage until then.

He sent Darcey another message about something stupid and unimportant, and for a while, they sent each other links to song and videos and pictures.

 

**SincerelyMe** : Oh, here’s one. I know you’re really into the punk scene.

 

The link was to an article about queer culture and its contributions to punk in the 80s and 90s.

Brett couldn’t read it because his vision was suddenly blurry. His throat tightened. He curled his fingers into a fist and rested it against his lips. A half-laugh, half-sob broke through his smile, because now he knew Darcey would be okay.

He started to type another message: _Hey, speaking of queer culture? There’s something I need to tell you._

But before he sent it, his phone rang. He minimized the window as he answered.

“Hey, Justin.”

“What’s wrong? Your voice is cracking.”

Brett’s grin widened and he laughed. “No, it’s nothing. Good things.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

Justin paused. “Care to elaborate?” he finally asked.

“Oh, I just… I’m pretty sure Darcey’s going to be okay with us. It’s just a really big relief.”

“Awesome!” Brett could almost see the smile light up his face. “Is that what your message is about? I haven’t listened to it yet.”

“Oh, no, that actually just happened, like, minutes before you called. No, I was just wondering if you wanted to come over? Or I could go over there? Or… we could go somewhere that’s neither of those places? I just really want to see you right now.”

“Yeah, always. What would be better for you?”

Brett paused for a moment to think. “Why don’t I come over there and then we can figure out if we want to do something? Then your place has more space if we decide to stay in.”

“Sure,” Justin said. “I’m on my way back home now. I’ll be there in maybe fifteen?”

“Okay, I’ll head over, too.”

“Hey,” Justin said quickly, like he thought Brett was about to hang up and was trying to get his attention.

“Yeah? I’m here.”

“Oh, okay. But, um, I… I was wondering. I know you’re not really out yet, so if you don’t want to, I understand. But I’d… I’d like you to meet my other friends, Sergio and Rocky, and there’s this really awesome club we like and I was thinking maybe we could go next week? Or even tonight, if you want. They’ll be there. Always are, every Friday and Saturday.”

Brett cleared his throat. The back of his neck went burning hot.

“I don’t…” He cleared his throat again when it came out in a squeak. “I don’t know? Not tonight. I need a little time to get used to the idea. Then, maybe? I’m sorry, I just --”

“Don’t apologize,” Justin said. “Never apologize for not wanting to do something that makes you uncomfortable. I understand. I was scared shitless the first time I went to a gay club. We’ll figure it out. No rush.”

Brett smiled. Even though his neck and nose were still too warm, at least most of the tension had melted out of his shoulders. “Thanks.”

He didn’t say so aloud, but the idea was something he _wanted_ to get used to. To be able to dance with Justin, flirt with him, kiss him, hold his hand in a public place would be amazing. Brett hadn’t understood how painful it was to be closeted until he and Justin became official. One of the worst things in the world was having to pay attention to how close they stood and where their hands were and the words they used when they were out together in public while a straight couple was sitting right across from them crawling all over each other. San Francisco wasn’t perfect, and they’d only be there for a week, but at least there he wouldn’t have to worry so much about whether or not he’d get his teeth kicked in because he wanted to hold his boyfriend’s hand. Only being affectionate behind closed doors was terrible and isolating, and it wasn’t because they were ashamed. They were _afraid_.

“I’ll let you go so you can get on your way,” Justin said. “Maybe we can go out to dinner or something. Or we can eat in; I’m sure I can scrape something together.”

Brett’s stomach dropped. He collected it as he replied, “We’ll figure it out when I get there.”

“Yeah. Drive safe. See you soon.”

“All right.”

Brett hung up. From the corner of his eye, he saw the conversation box with Darcey flashing. He pulled it up. His unsent message was still in the text box. Darcey had logged off.

Brett deleted the message and logged off, too. But they’d talk again. There was plenty of time to tell him now that Brett knew he’d be okay.

Being outside of the apartment and away from the mirror helped. The farther away he got, the better he felt, and by the time he got to Justin’s, Brett was smiling again. Even though hating his body was a thing that would never go away, at least he could get to the point where he didn’t actively think of it all the time.

Both Justin’s and Nate’s cars were in the driveway, so Brett parked on the street, careful to watch the fire hydrant on the corner hiding behind the bushes so he didn’t get another ticket. He locked his car and twirled the keys around his fingers before he stuffed them in his pocket as he walked up to the door. He knocked three times and rang the doorbell. As he pulled his finger away, Justin opened the door with a grin.

“Hey.” He stepped back so Brett could come in, and once the door was closed behind them, curled his fingers into Brett’s hair and pressed a kiss to his temple, another to the corner of his mouth. Brett ran his fingers through Justin’s hair and leaned into his shoulder, kissing his neck. Justin hummed softly and pulled his boyfriend close. His hold was so _gentle_ , his touch so light. Justin held him with such care and affection it almost made him want to cry. It had been so long since someone had made him feel like this, like he mattered, but not only that, like he was _special_. Justin made him feel like he was falling in love for the first time again.

“So, I’m able to take off the week for San Francisco,” he said. “I called my manager and he approved it.”

“Awesome,” Justin grinned. He curled his arms around Brett a little tighter, then let him go and took a step back. “I got mine approved today, too. I’ll call my sister and let her know.” He laughed and kissed his boyfriend again, brief, comfortable, like they’d been doing it for years and it was second nature. Brett loved it, how _right_ it felt. “This is so awesome. I really want you and my sister to meet each other and we can meet her girlfriend. I’ve actually never been to San Francisco so I’m really excited. I’ve heard it’s really beautiful and it’s, like, a vegan Mecca. And obviously way more queer friendly than here.”

Brett grinned back. “Well, when I finish school I’m going to have to move. I was thinking Chicago or New York City, but San Francisco could be cool, too, if there are enough opportunities.”

Justin’s face took on a look Brett didn’t recognize, and he realized what he’d implied by saying that.

“Do you… do you still see us being together then?” Justin asked softly.

Brett looked down at his feet, back up at Justin, and locked eyes with him when he said, “I’d really like to be. I mean, I know we’ve only been officially dating about a week. But you’re still my best friend and have been for a long time. I’d… I’d want you there with me.”

A slow, relieved smile pulled across Justin’s mouth and when he laughed it was soft, so happy. “Yeah,” he said. “I’d want to be there with you, too.”

A matching smile crossed Brett’s face and he leaned his forehead against Justin’s. For a moment, they just looked at each other, smiling, so glad to know they were on the same page. Brett was in it for the long haul, and nothing had ever made him happier than knowing Justin was, too.


	17. Chapter 17

It had been so long since he’d been on a road trip that Justin had forgotten how terrible the long distance driving part was. The last time he drove to California was the summer between his senior year of high school and freshman year of college when he and Nate went to Orange County and Seal Beach to celebrate getting through high school without dying.

The drive was long and boring and brown, constant desert with the occasional rest stop. Every few hours, he and Brett switched places, but they’d both been sitting for almost thirteen hours. Supposedly the trip was going to take ten, but both of them knew the map website was lying because they would hit LA during rush hour, which added two more hours onto their trip. At least.

But then, finally, they got through the toll for the I-80 West, and when they approached the sign for Market Street, they knew they’d finally made it. It was dark and the streets were confusing and the signage made no sense, but Nora had given them excellent directions, so they only got turned around once before they made it to the apartment with relative ease.

It was just past nine when they arrived at her door. Justin knocked a few times before leaning against the wall beside it, dropping their bags to the pavement. Just one small one for each. He smiled tiredly at Brett and Brett laughed.

“I know, it’s crazy how exhausting just sitting around and driving a car can be, right?” he said.

When the door opened, Justin stood up straight again and picked up his bags. Nora pulled him into a tight hug. It had been so long since he’d seen her, he’d forgotten she was taller.

“It’s so good to see you!” she shouted. She stepped back, her hand on Justin’s shoulder as she ushered them in. “Are you guys hungry? I know it’s a pretty long trip. Have you eaten?”

“We haven’t,” Justin said. “Do you want --”

But she’d turned around and pulled Brett into a hug. “You must be Brett! It’s so great to finally meet you!”

He laughed, hands resting awkwardly in the air for a moment before he returned the hug. “Yeah,” he said. “Nora, right?”

“Yeah.” She let him go and took a step back, gesturing for them to follow. She led them into the living room, which was small, but cozy, barely big enough for the three of them. The walls were covered in red, blue, and gold fabric, some matte, some shiny, some even sparkly, and there was a two person loveseat and pillows and blankets all over the floor in a big, comfortable nest. Little white fairy lights were draped from the corners in loops. It was so _whimsical._ Feminine. But it was calm and soothing and Justin could see himself in a place like this for the long term.

“Erika went out to the grocery store to pick up some things for the week,” Nora said, “but she should be back within a half hour.” She sat down on the loveseat and Justin and Brett took the floor. Justin leaned back against the wall and Brett flopped down on top of him, his head in Justin’s lap and arm curled under his knee. “I thought we could go out for dinner tonight. I figured you’d be tired and Erika and I both worked all day so we can have Monday with you. It’s Friday so it might be kind of crazy, but it’s also a little late so we might get lucky. There’s a vegan Japanese restaurant not far from here that offers takeout, so if the dining room is full we can bring it back home.”

Brett turned away from Nora to look at Justin when the younger man said softly, awed, “A vegan Japanese restaurant? Oh, God, yes, I would _love_ that.” Brett grinned and Nora laughed.

“Well, good! Is that okay with you, Brett?”

“Yeah. I love Japanese food.”

Nora smiled. “I have a big list of other vegan restaurants we can go over at some point and we can make a list of the ones you want to visit. We can look over it in the morning. I know you said you have tickets for the theatre on Wednesday. Is there anything else you want to do while you’re here?”

Justin shrugged and looked down at Brett. As long as he could have a food tour of the city, he would be happy and Brett could have anything else he wanted. Brett’s eyes darted over his face and he bit the corner of his lip before he looked back at Nora and asked, “What about The Castro?”

Nora grinned. “For sure! I thought that went without saying. We’ll go queer it up and it’ll be great!”

Justin grinned back. The fact that Brett’s shoulders were still relaxed, the older man’s fingers loose on his leg, the fact that he _asked_ , it made Justin beam right from his center. _He’s not afraid anymore_.

Nora’s smile softened as she watched them. Justin raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You look really happy together,” she said softly. “I’m just really happy it worked out for both of you.”

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘worked out’?” Brett asked. Her eyes raised from his face to Justin’s and she lifted a perfectly manicured eyebrow. Brett looked up at Justin and he cleared his throat.

“Um,” Justin mumbled around his hand. “I just… I was really into you for a long time before we finally stopped being stupid and talked to each other about it. Like… six months.”

Brett’s expression was a mix of surprise, disbelief, and amusement. “Really?” He almost sounded breathless.

“Yeah.” Justin wanted to look away, but there was nowhere else to look. “Remember the Anti-Flag show last summer? The one Big D opened for?”

“ _Really_?” he asked again. His voice was a little shaky but his face was so bright it could _blind_.

“Yeah,” Justin repeated.

Brett’s eyes darted over his face for a moment before he murmured, “Come here,” and curled his arms around Justin’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss. It was slow, it lingered, and even though it was chaste, Justin could feel galaxies of meaning behind that simple touch.

“If you guys are going to have sex, that’s cool, but please tell me so I can excuse myself and give you some privacy,” Nora said. The kiss broke when Justin laughed against Brett’s mouth and the shorter man’s head fell back and the moment was over.

The click of a key turning in the lock and the creak of the door announced Erika’s return, and she called out, “Hey, baby, I’m back!”

“Justin and Brett are here!” Nora called back. She stood, but didn’t move to leave the room.

“Awesome! I’ll be in there in a minute. I just have to put some stuff in the fridge first.”

“Do you need help?” Justin called.

“Absolutely not! I don’t know which one you are, but stay in there and visit with Nora. I’ve got this.”

Justin laughed and Nora sat back down. Not long later, Erika walked in. Her hair had changed since the picture Nora sent him. She was no longer wearing the bright green locs and instead had it back to her natural black, pulled tight in a ponytail at the back of her head, big and puffy and curly. She plopped down on the loveseat next to Nora and kissed her cheek.

“So, I’m Erika,” she introduced herself.

“I’m Justin.” He nodded.

“Brett.” He waved a hand as he introduced himself.

“Glad to finally meet you,” she grinned. “So, what about dinner?”

***

The city was beautiful at night when someone else was driving and Justin didn’t have to freak out about roads and signs that made no sense. The restaurant was packed with a huge wait, but even though Justin suggested finding something else, Nora and Brett insisted they wait because he had been so excited about it.

When they got back to the apartment, they set up the living room and Erika pulled the coffee table from the corner to the middle of the room. They all gathered around, kneeling and sitting on pillows and eating off the same plates. _This is perfect_. _This_ was Justin’s family, not the people who never talked to him back home.

_I hope Brett was serious about moving here_. It would be amazing if they could do this all the time. Maybe make it a weekly get-together.

Long after all the plates were empty and the city outside had gone to sleep, they still sat around the table talking about everything and anything and nothing at all, with no stress or expectations. Finally, at about one in the morning, Erika broke them up and dragged the table back to the corner so Justin and Brett could set up their sleeping quarters, a blanket and pillow pile on the floor. They left the fairy lights on after everything else was shut down, and when the two of them fell asleep together in a tangle of limbs, everything was perfect.

Every day was something new and different. They went to vegan bakeries and farmer’s markets and amateur standup routines and poetry slams. One day an art museum, science the next. Independent feminist run bookshops and anarchist mutual aid driven art spaces and queer centric sex shops.

_San Francisco might be the best city in the world_. It was so _big_ , so _diverse_ , and Justin couldn’t walk a block without finding something fascinating to check out. It had its problems -- the homelessness was impossible to ignore, and with prices so high a lot of people probably had to live paycheck to paycheck -- but Justin would take it over Phoenix or even Tempe any day.

Their second day out, Brett walked a little closer to Justin than normal and found ways to touch him that weren’t quite platonic, even out in the middle of the street. The third day, he took Justin’s hand, just for a second, when he wanted to get his boyfriend’s attention to show him an Alice in Wonderland themed display in a thrift shop window. The fourth, he held Justin’s hand for real, as they walked down the street together.

Day five was Wednesday, theatre district night, and while Spamalot wasn’t showing, they were able to get tickets to Much Ado About Nothing, which was Brett’s favorite Shakespeare play. Seeing it live was so much different from reading dead text on paper. It was vibrant and funny and a little dirty and Justin found he could actually understand the jokes when they were performed. Had Shakespeare always been full of dick jokes and he just hadn’t noticed?

By the time the show was over his sides hurt because he hadn’t laughed so much at one time for so long.

Justin didn’t talk much on the way back to Nora’s apartment, but Brett did, bright and exuberant, hands flying in wild gesture as he recounted his favorite parts and some of his own experiences acting in the past. Justin grinned at his enthusiasm, at the fact that Brett was finally getting back into the theatre where he belonged. Where he was happy.

Nora and Erika were out when they got back, but they’d given their guests the spare key Saturday morning in case of just that. Justin and Brett had eaten dinner before they’d gone out, so they went back to the living room. Both immediately went for the blanket and pillow nest where they’d been staying, playfully shoving at each other to try to get into the best spot, and then they were play wrestling and then Brett was kneeling on top of Justin and pinning his hands to the floor and suddenly, they simultaneously stopped.

The expression on Brett’s face was one Justin thought he recognized, but he couldn’t be sure because he’d never seen it there before, but, oh, he hoped it was. Justin’s tongue darted out to his bottom lip, just barely. Brett’s breath caught. _Oh, God, yes._

“Hey,” Justin murmured. _Don’t push it. Let it happen if it will._

“Hey,” Brett whispered back.

“What’s going on?”

Brett’s eyes darted over Justin’s face and then, in a moment of raw candidness, he murmured, “It figures that when I’m finally ready we’d be at your sister’s place, right?” His face was dark, dark red and his fingers trembled around Justin’s wrists.

Justin smiled softly as he slid his left hand under Brett’s right, curling their fingers together. “Well, she did say it’s cool as long as we let her know so she doesn’t walk in.” His words were gentle, hesitant.

“Yeah,” Brett murmured. “She did.”

They were quiet for a few moments, eyes locked on each other. Justin finally said, “I could text her. It’s early. I don’t think they’d mind staying out a while longer.”

“You think they’d be okay with that?”

“I think so.”

And then Brett kissed him, his fingers curled around Justin’s palms, their chests pressed together as he slid down over his boyfriend. The kiss was hesitant, nervous, a little shaky, but when he pulled back, Brett whispered, “I think maybe… maybe you should text her, then.”

Justin slid his phone out of his pocket and Brett’s breath caught when the younger man’s knuckles brushed his hip. He flipped open the phone and sent a quick text.

_hey, do you guys mind staying out a while longer? it’s finally happening and we really don’t want you guys walking in._

He lowered his hand to the floor and looked back up at Brett’s face. The soft yellow of the ceiling light caught his curly hair, the back of his neck, painting him gold. Justin’s phone beeped and he picked it back up.

_Condoms and lube are in the bottom drawer of the bedside table in our bedroom. Be safe! Don’t touch our sex toys or I will destroy you. Give me a text when you’re ready for us to come home._

_you’re the best sister ever_ he texted back. Then he switched his phone off and tossed it over toward the coffee table in the corner, where it landed in a pile of blankets.

“Come here,” he whispered. Brett smiled when Justin curled his fingers in his hair and pulled him into a kiss. It started slow, with the barest touch of lips, but then the kiss grew harder, more insistent, and Brett’s hands curled into Justin’s hair as Justin’s slid down Brett’s sides and up his shirt. Justin hesitated, lingering at Brett’s hip, but when his boyfriend sighed softly and pressed closer, he took it as permission, he kept going, and oh, Brett’s hot skin, the older man’s muscle flexing under his palms as they shifted and moved against each other. Justin’s hands stopped halfway up Brett’s back because his dress shirt had no give and then Brett leaned back, one hand by Justin’s head to keep him steady, the other trying to fumble with the buttons of his shirt.

“Hang on,” Justin murmured. “I’ll be right back.”

“What --” Brett started.

“Condoms and lube,” Justin explained.

“Yeah.” Brett nodded. He kneeled back and crawled off of the taller man. Brett’s eyes were so dark, his lips just parted, his skin flushed and hair messy and _he is fucking beautiful_. Justin didn’t want to leave him but he also didn’t want to have to stop after they got started. He pressed a quick kiss to Brett’s face, missing his mouth and hitting his nose, instead.

When Justin returned from the bedroom, Brett was curled up in their blanket nest, his neck and the curve of his bare shoulder peeking out from underneath. His skin, so warm and gold, was so _pale_ suddenly in the warm night air. The tan of Justin’s skin was so much cooler than his, and all the taller man wanted to see was the contrast of his hands on Brett’s chest, his hips. But --

“Are you okay?” he murmured. He sat down behind Brett and kissed the back of his neck. “You’re really pale.”

When Brett turned back to Justin, he was smiling, and he wrapped his arm around his boyfriend’s neck and pulled him close. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Just a little nervous.”

“It’s okay,” Justin said. “If you change your mind, we can stop.”

His smile turned a little surer and he nodded.

“We only go as fast as the slowest you want to go, okay?”

Brett nodded. When he kissed Justin his lips were soft and his tongue was hot and wet and his fingers curled insistently against the back of Justin’s neck. Brett’s hold tightened and Justin moaned against his mouth, a little afraid it would scare Brett off but it actually made him bolder. Brett moved closer, deepened the kiss, gripped Justin harder. Justin’s hands slid over Brett’s back, up to his shoulders, and when Brett’s fingers tightened again it was with the barest scratch of nails on Justin’s skin and teeth on his bottom lip. Suddenly everything was so, so hot, _burning_. Justin pushed himself up on one hand because he needed to take his shirt off but he also needed to keep touching his boyfriend and he didn’t have enough _hands_. Brett leaned back as Justin sat up, kneeling over the taller man’s legs, and then Justin didn’t have to make a decision because Brett was unbuttoning his shirt for him, hot knuckles brushing his chest with each one. Brett kissed his neck, hot, wet, the barest scrape of teeth, and Justin managed to gasp out, “I’m totally okay with biting.”

He’d barely gotten the last syllable out when Brett’s teeth scratched against the sensitive skin of his throat. When he swallowed, he could feel the movement of his adam’s apple against Brett’s teeth. He’d never let anyone touch him there before because it was such a vulnerable part of his body but oh God, oh _God_ , it was so _good_. Brett slid Justin’s shirt off into a puddle behind him and when he leaned closer to pin the taller man to the loveseat, his hips shifted and pressed against Justin’s and Justin’s brain faltered as a sharp shot of heat thrummed through his body. Brett’s breath hitched and Justin’s thumbs hooked in the waistline of his pants right near the top button, hesitantly.

“Okay?” he asked softly.

“Only if yours come off, too,” Brett whispered. His voice was thick, and even though his words were soft, a little rougher than usual.

“ _Yes_ ,” Justin whispered, low and a little too urgent, but he had nothing to hide. They’d already been through almost everything together. Brett had seen him at his worst and there wasn’t much either could do to embarrass himself. Justin didn’t want to impress Brett. He just wanted to be with him.

They managed to get each other down to their boxers without having to move too far away from each other, and then Brett was on his back, Justin’s hands on his sides as he kissed down the older man’s chest. When Justin’s teeth scraped against his hip, Brett twisted up into the touch and _whined_ , high pitched and trembling. Brett’s fingers curled tightly into Justin’s hair, holding the taller man against him and _yes_ , Justin was more than okay with that. He wanted Brett to take control, to take all of him. He nipped at his boyfriend’s hip again, teeth against sharp bone, and his whine was a little louder, a little more desperate. Would he react the same way if it were his shoulder blades, his wrists, all sharp, perfect angles taut under golden skin? When Justin slid his hands up Brett’s sides, he curled his fingers into the soft dips between his ribs, slowly kissing and licking up his chest, every curve and angle of muscle and bone beneath his tongue, his, _his_ , after wanting Brett for so, so long, in the way that only someone who completely gave himself to him could be.

The air was so hot and humid and it might have been the city or it might have been their skin, slick hands sliding over damp muscles and fingers curled hard into shoulders and backs, teeth and nails and tongues over throats and stomachs, hips shifting against hips through thin barriers of fabric. Then, Brett’s thumb hooked in Justin’s boxers, knuckles hot against the dip of his hip into his thigh. Justin curled his hand around Brett’s stilling him.

“What are you comfortable with?” Justin asked. His voice was soft and it was hard to breathe, shaky and erratic.

“I…” Brett paused and gave Justin an unsure look. “Nothing like… really kinky?”

Justin laughed and nuzzled against Brett’s nose. “No, I mean, top or bottom?”

Brett’s smile came back and he let out a soft huff of a laugh. “I think… well, what do you want to do?”

“I can switch,” Justin said. He paused, swallowed a little nervously, and when he spoke again, it was soft and shaky. “I prefer being bottom, though.”

“Okay.” No judgment. No mocking. Total acceptance. Justin smiled. “Position doesn’t really matter,” Brett continued. “I just want to be able to see your face.”

Justin moved his hand away so he could support himself as he leaned down to kiss his boyfriend again. “Yeah,” he whispered. As Justin lips moved against his, Brett slid his boxers down.

“I apologize in advance if I suck at this,” Brett murmured. His voice was shaky. “I’ve never --”

“I know.” As their mouths moved against each other the barest wetness of the inside of their lips brushed. Justin needed him like he needed oxygen, in the primal, all-encompassing animalistic way of a drowning man gasping for air, and he needed Brett to feel the same way. Brett’s fingers tightened on his hips when he said, “Don’t worry about being perfect. I don’t want you to put on a show for me. I just want _you_. I love you.”

A hot, quick breath of air burst from Brett’s lips and he whispered, “I love you,” before leaning up to kiss Justin again.

This kiss was different, no longer gentle and slow but grasping and clawing and desperate, _devouring_ , oh God Justin was drowning in him and his touch, his smell, his heat, it was everywhere and everything and it was his, it was _his_. Suddenly he was on his back and Brett’s hand was on his shoulder and the shorter man’s teeth were on his neck again, hot, biting, the sharp sting of just enough pain and the soft heat of his tongue. His other hand was on Justin’s side, fingers curled, nails scraping at his ribs like he was trying to dig his way inside and burrow into his chest and oh God, yes. When Justin would imagine being with him so long ago, he always imagined Brett would be gentle, hesitant, but this was so, _so_ much _better_.

When Brett pulled back again, Justin was gasping, shaking, overwhelmed in the most perfect way. He could barely register Brett’s movements on top of him. Then Brett leaned back again, the soft skin of the older man’s thigh pressing against his, cock hard against his hip, and Justin sucked in a staggered breath and when he arched, Brett moaned softly, a whispered, “oh, fuck.”

For a few minutes, they both laid quietly, trying to breathe. Brett’s lips barely brushed Justin’s throat where he’d been biting and the heat of the smaller man’s breath stung in the best way.

When Justin spoke again, the words stuck in his mouth. “Please tell me you’re ready.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Brett whispered. There was so much passion in that single, ragged word that it made Justin’s breath catch and his head light. Everything in his head was fuzzy and white but his body was fine-tuned to even Brett’s slightest shift. Should that scare him? But he was safe.

Brett pressed a sloppy, open mouthed kiss on Justin’s lips as he sat, dragging his hands down the bigger man’s chest. “How --”

“Lie on your back,” Justin said. “I’ll be on top. That’s probably the easiest way to do it for right now.”

Brett crawled off of him, slowly, and for every inch he pulled away, Justin pulled him two closer to kiss him, his face, his neck, his shoulder, his chest, but then, eventually, through quick, sharp, desperate movements, he had his boyfriend on his back with a condom on and his hands wrapped around him, slick with lube.

“Oh, God, _Justin_.” Brett’s voice was shaky and high pitched, his chest shuddering as one hand loosely covered his face. The _need_ he had for Justin just made the taller man want him more, _all_ of him, not just his body, but his heart, his soul, his _everything_.

“Don’t move until I tell you to, okay?” Justin said. “You’re going to want to. But don’t.”

Brett peeked through his fingers and swallowed.

“Okay,” he whispered shakily. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Justin pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You ready?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Justin slowly slid down onto him. He’d been a little overzealous with the lube, but even though the first time was never perfect, he wanted to at least avoid any injury. At first, it was just tight, a little uncomfortable, and once Justin was situated, he paused. When Brett sucked in a thick gasp, Justin opened his eyes to see his hands jammed against his mouth, shaking.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” Brett murmured. His voice was thick and strangled. After a moment, Justin tentatively leaned forward to slide his clean hand up his boyfriend’s chest, and when Brett leaned back into him, a thick, hot moan fell from his mouth. Justin rocked back against him and oh, God, it was so hot and full and Brett fit him _perfectly_.

“You can –” Justin’s words caught in his throat, wrapped up in another moan. “You can move,” he said quickly, urgently. Oh God, oh God, he needed Brett like he’d never needed anything.

Brett rocked his hips up, a little too fast. It took a few slow minutes of mistakes and apologies and questions before they found a rhythm that worked – slow, long, drawn out movements, every inch of him slowly moving in and out. At first it was calm, relaxed, and it felt so, so good, with Brett hot inside him, the shorter man’s hands slick on his back and mouth wet on his neck, his chin. Suddenly, from out of _nowhere_ , Brett shifted slightly and the sharp stab of desperation hit Justin right in the stomach, curled up tight and frantic and burning and he half gasped, half growled, “Oh, God, Brett, harder, _please_.”

And then Brett curled one hand around Justin’s cock and the other was tight on his hip and his teeth were in Justin’s neck as he moved harder, faster, and then his teeth loosened and he half kissed Justin’s neck, half moaned against it. Justin grabbed his hair and pulled him into a kiss, hard and demanding, Brett’s moans vibrating against his tongue. It was right there, so close, crawling up his back, tendrils of heat sparking underneath his muscles --

When Justin came, his orgasm ripped through his entire body and out of his mouth in a breathless half-scream. Everything stopped. He and Brett were all that was. Brett let out a strangled half-gasp when Justin tensed, so he tensed again, again, and Brett cried out, burying his face in Justin’s shoulder, coming right after.

It took Justin a moment to realize his whole body was trembling. His breathing was heavy and Brett’s was, too. Brett’s arms were loose around his waist, like he couldn’t use his muscles properly. Justin curled his fingers into Brett’s hair and they stayed that way, breathing each other in.

“We should clean up,” Brett finally whispered.

“Yeah.” When Justin kissed his temple, he signed softly and leaned closer.

But after a while, the position started to get uncomfortable, so Justin carefully slid off of him, wincing slightly as they separated. He collapsed in a heap beside his boyfriend, his head pressed against the older man’s thigh, and he laughed when Brett cringed as he removed the condom.

“I’m going to get rid of this,” he said.

“Okay.”

Neither man moved away. Instead, Brett put his other hand on the back of Justin’s head, gently scratching his scalp and playing with his hair and it was so perfect Justin could almost _cry_. He turned into his boyfriend and curled his arm around Brett’s stomach, cringing when his wrist ran across the splatter of cum he’d left there. _Oh, gross._

“Ugh,” he groaned.

“That’s what you get,” Brett said, but there was a grin in his voice.

“I’ll put it on your face,” Justin threatened, but there was no malice.

“You will not.” Brett laughed.

Justin let out a soft, content sigh. It would be easy to ignore as long as Brett stayed there with him and kept smiling. He gently nudged Justin’s shoulder and rolled him onto his back, gently kissing his lips, his cheeks, his forehead.

“I love you,” Justin whispered.

“I love you.” Brett sat back up and said, “But we really need to shower because we’ve got stuff all over us.”

Justin opened his eyes and asked, a little nervously, “Together?”

Brett smiled. “I’d like that.” He stood first. Justin started to follow, but he couldn’t touch anything because one hand was covered in lube and the other was sticky with his own cum and he’d ruin anything made of fabric and then Nora would have a fit. He looked up from his hands to Brett with a crooked smile and a shrug. Brett burst out laughing and held a hand out to help Justin up.

He turned on the sink so Justin could rinse his hands as he got the shower started. It was tiny and cramped and Brett’s elbows were in Justin’s side and their knees knocked together, but the water was so warm and Brett’s skin was so soft and any time he looked away for any reason, Brett pressed another kiss to his shoulder, his arm, his neck. He washed Justin’s hair for him and Justin scrubbed down Brett’s back and for a long time after they were clean, they stayed with each other under the water.

After they dried off and put on some pajamas so Nora and Erika wouldn’t come home to naked houseguests, Justin turned his phone back on and sent his sister a quick text giving her the all clear.

With only the soft, white glow of the fairy lights and Brett’s face in his chest and his arms curled around Brett’s shoulders and their fingers tangled together, Justin could pretend that nothing in the world would ever be bad again, that nothing existed outside of them and this space.

And knowing that when they left for Tempe in two days, he wouldn’t be going home, he would be _leaving_ it, was so painful, but at least he and Brett would be together there. Two years was a long time to have to wait to come back, but if it meant every day of his life could be like the last week had been, he was willing to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, everyone. I've been having some very serious all-over Mystery Pain which sometimes leaves me stuck in bed all day, so updates might be a little sporadic for a while. There will still be one update every week, and I will try to keep it as close to Thursday as possible. Thanks for understanding.


	18. Chapter 18

Brett didn’t want to go back home. All that waited for him there were a tiny apartment in a bad neighborhood and a minimum wage job he hated. But when Friday morning came, he had to, because he was an adult, and being an adult meant he couldn’t just pack up and run away.

Their goodbyes with Nora and Erika were a little shaky and tearful on everyone’s part, even his, because they made him feel so at home, so welcome, like he _belonged_ there. Part of him felt like he did, but even if that was true, it wasn’t where he could stay. At least, not for now.

They left early, just before 6:00 a.m., to try to avoid LA rush hour. Thankfully they managed to get through and onto the interstate in just a few hours. The drive was a big, long nothing of dirt and skyline, but even though it was exactly the same route they’d taken a week before, their destination made it feel so _oppressive_. Every hour or so they stretched and switched, but about ten hours in, Brett started to feel so tired his bones hurt, a sharp ache in his wrists and the back of his throat that could only mean he was getting sick. _Shit_. He’d just taken eight days off work for this trip. He couldn’t afford to call out sick.

Hopefully he could work through it. He knew he shouldn’t, not in food service, but they didn’t offer sick pay and he could call out because his leg was torn off in a car wreck and they’d still be furious he didn’t come in.

Even though the change came on slowly, Justin saw it, and he gently moved one of his hands from the steering wheel to Brett’s knee. Brett was so tired and it hurt so much he couldn’t bring himself to lecture Justin about safe driving. Justin was smart. He’d take his hand back if he needed it.

As they merged onto the East Loop, Brett closed his eyes, resting his head against the window, freezing cold from the air conditioning. They left so early it was still light out when they arrived back in the city, and Brett didn’t move when Justin asked, “What do you want to do about dinner?”

“I’m not hungry,” Brett mumbled. “I just want to sleep.”

“I know,” Justin said gently. “But you have to eat something. We could even just stop by the store and grab some hummus and pita bread or something if you want. I don’t really feel like cooking right now, either.”

“Yeah,” Brett murmured. “Let’s just do that. Is it okay if I stay in the car? You can get whatever you want.”

“Sure.”

Neither of them usually came this far north, so they didn’t know what was available, but in the corner of a strip mall Justin managed to recognize the corner of a Sprouts sign. He pulled into the parking lot, kissed Brett’s cheek, and ducked into the store to grab something for a makeshift dinner. Brett was grateful it was Sprouts and not one of the big box stores, because that meant Justin could more easily find vegan options and get back faster. The window was cold against his temple and the sun burned through his eyelids from right in the center of the windshield as it started to set. The last track of the mix CD ended and it started over, a track by one of Justin’s favorite punk bands.

When the car door slammed closed, Brett’s body jerked back up and his eyes flew open, then he slumped back in his seat and closed them again.

“Are you okay?” Justin asked. The back of his hand was cool on Brett’s cheek. “Oh, shit,” he said. “You have a fever.”

“No,” Brett whined. It was childish, but all he wanted was a soft bed and a warm blanket and something cold to drink.

“Yeah,” Justin affirmed. “Shit. And the only places open on the weekends are urgent cares.”

“Not happening,” Brett said. “Too expensive. I’ll go if I’m dying but not until then.”

“Are you going to work tomorrow?”

“I have to. If I don’t bring in a note they’ll insist I just wanted to extend my vacation and I can’t afford to go anywhere to get one until Monday when the regular doctor’s office opens again. And I just took eight days off. I can’t afford any more.”

Justin sighed and Brett opened his eyes. His boyfriend’s hand was still on his cheek. “That fucking sucks,” he said. “But I know what you mean. If I can get a note, I can get it excused if I have to call off, but we don’t get paid sick days so I’m just out for however many hours I have to take off.”

Brett shrugged. Even if he had a better paying job, he wasn’t naïve enough to think he’d get paid sick leave from any normal retail or food service position.

“Do you want to go back to my place or yours? I just got some frozen food to microwave. Or we can throw it in the oven if we go back to my place.”

“Let’s go to yours, then,” Brett murmured. His eyes slipped closed again. “The oven makes food taste better.”

“All right.” Justin’s hand lingered for a moment longer before he put it back on the wheel again.

The drive was silent. Everything hurt so much and Brett was so tired and now he had a headache, too, pounding and heavy like a rubber ball filled with sand and stretched too thin, pressure so tight it might explode.

When they got back, they went inside and to the dining room and Brett sat down at the small table while Justin continued to the kitchen with the bag of groceries. He pulled out a box and glanced at the back, then fiddled with the oven for a moment and set a timer before coming back to sit with Brett.

“The food goes in the oven when the timer goes off,” he said. Brett nodded and dropped his face against the table. The cold wood against his nose and forehead was so soothing.

Then there was a hand on his shoulder that was definitely not Justin’s. It was bigger and lighter and not nearly so intimate.

“Hey, Nate.”

Something thunked twice on the table in front of him and he looked up. It was Nate’s tablet.

_You okay?_

“Sick. But okay.”

Nate hissed and Brett tilted his head so he could see his friend’s face.

_Oh, that sucks. Were you sick on your trip?_

“No.” Brett shook his head. “I just started feeling it on the way home.”

“Do you want some water or something?” Justin asked. Nate signed something to him, and then Justin added, “Nate made a pitcher of iced green tea yesterday.”

“That would be awesome,” Brett said. “Thank you.”

Justin gently ran his fingers over the back of Brett’s neck as he walked past and into the kitchen. Brett whimpered a little when Justin moved away. His skin was so cool and nice. He knew he was being dumb, but something about being sick made him mentally revert to being a helpless child. It wouldn’t last. Tomorrow morning, he’d have to get up and go to work no matter how he felt, but right here, right now, Justin was willing to take care of him, and Brett planned to take full advantage of that.

Nate let out a low whistle and Brett glanced up at the scrape of a chair on the tile. The taller man sat down beside him, across from Justin’s spot.

“What?”

Nate raised an eyebrow. Brett wrinkled his nose. “Not now, Nate,” he groaned. “Please. I’m exhausted and I feel like crap. Just tell me.”

Nate’s eyebrow arched a little higher and he tapped the side of his neck, then gestured at Brett. Brett frowned. Nate rolled his eyes and picked up his tablet.

_You think I didn’t notice all those hickeys up and down your and Justin’s necks?_ He leaned to the side to get a closer look at Brett’s. Brett slapped his hand over his throat and flinched back.

“Um.” _Wow, Brett. So intelligent._

Nate laughed, but it wasn’t mocking. He was happy for them. Brett’s fingers loosened and he tentatively smiled back.

_Good for you._ Nate whacked his shoulder. Brett teetered slightly to the side and caught himself on the table. _Sorry,_ he signed.

“Uh, thank you?”

_I could make you a cake. ‘Congratulations!’_

“No, that’s okay,” Brett said. “I think we’ll pass.”

Justin peered over Brett’s shoulder at the tablet as he walked by with his boyfriend’s tea. “I don’t know, I could always go for cake,” he said, as he sat down beside Brett. He slid the glass across the table, gently nudging it against Brett’s hand. Brett took a long, slow drink. The cold soothed his sore throat.

The timer rang and Justin got up again.

“So, I ended up getting these vegan taquito things made with seitan?” he called back from the kitchen. “How many?”

Brett pushed himself up and slowly walked into the kitchen, leaning against him and taking the box. He flipped it over to check the label. “What’s a serving size?” he asked.

_Stop. Just let Justin make as much as he wants and eat until you aren’t hungry anymore._

“Don’t worry about that,” Justin said. “Have as many as you want. I got two boxes so there’s some left for when I’m lazy and hungry later. There’s plenty.”

A serving size was three pieces and over 300 calories. _Oh, God._ Brett looked over the cookie sheet with a few pieces already laid out. They were tiny. _What the hell is in these?_

“I’ll...” He paused to get his wavering voice back under control. “I’ll just have two.”

Justin hesitantly took the box back. “Are you sure that’s enough?” he asked. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. We have more than enough for all three of us with leftovers. And Nate’s not even eating any.”

“I’m not very hungry.” It wasn’t _much_ of a lie. He’d eat more when he got home and had reasonable food available. _I should not have looked at that label._ He’d be obsessing over it for days.

He’d just eat lots of vegetables and beans and stay away from cheese for a few days until he could get his head back under control, and he would be fine.

He didn’t get to eat later, though, because he stayed overnight at Justin’s place, since they both worked afternoon shifts the next day. Even though Brett offered to take the couch so he couldn’t infect Justin, Justin insisted that they share the bed, so they did. Justin’s arms around him and the taller man’s nose in his hair made Brett feel like nothing in the world could ever hurt him again.

Justin worked earlier than Brett did, at noon instead of 2:00, so he dropped Brett off at his apartment around 10:00 a.m. where he took another nap even though he’d slept at least ten hours the previous night. It took so much effort even just to walk, but he forced himself up to take a shower and change for work anyway because things had to get done and nobody else was going to do it for him. When he got in he found that Cass had just left for the day, which he was both grateful for (so she couldn’t comment on the state of his neck) and upset by (because he wouldn’t have her otherwise pleasant company).

She was off Sunday and the day was no better. By the time Brett’s shift was over, he was lightheaded, he couldn’t think, his limbs hurt like he’d been run over by a train -- twice -- his whole body was hotter than the summer outside and his stomach lurched with every step he took.

He definitely had some kind of flu.

When he went back to his manager’s office, he had to prop himself against the wall to keep himself steady. He knocked on the door. Nothing. He knocked one more time and called out, “”Hey, I need a minute to talk to you?”

Scott was the manager on duty, of course, because he was the first to call someone in when they were short but the worst about taking time off for any reason. But Brett had no choice. He _needed_ to see a doctor.

“Hey, Scott.” Brett tried, unsuccessfully, to clear the gravel out of his throat. “I know I just took a bunch of time off, but I have to see a doctor tomorrow. I’m not going to be able to come in. I can get a note, but --”

“Can’t you schedule the appointment before or after your shift?” Scott asked tersely.

“I won’t know until I call them in the morning. They’re closed weekends so I can’t talk to anyone until tomorrow.”

“What about your scheduled day off?”

Brett muffled a sigh and rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. _Keep calm_. He couldn’t afford to get written up.

“Scott, I’m really, really sick. I need to see someone about it. I think it’s some kind of flu and I have to get a prescription to get something to treat it.”

“Fine,” he said. “But you need to find someone to cover you.”

_That’s not my job_ , Brett thought, but instead, he said, “Do you have anyone’s phone numbers?”

“In the notebook by the schedule in the break room,” Scott said. He shut the door in Brett’s face. Brett didn’t understand what happened to people once they got into management. It always seemed like they suddenly forgot they’d ever had a bad job or gotten sick. More realistically, they probably just didn’t care anymore.

Brett dragged himself to the break room, where he found the notebook, and he called down the line, one by one, for everyone who knew how to work his position. Finally, call number seven got him a “Yeah, sure, but in the future will you cover for me if I need it?”

He agreed. He would have under any circumstance, but he was at the point the he’d be willing to saw his own hand off in order to see a doctor.

When he got home, Brett stripped out of his clothes. It was so _hot_. Usually he’d take a hot shower but cold would feel so much better but then when he stepped under the water, it _didn’t_. It _hurt_ , sharp and deep in his bones. He yelped and jumped back out of the shower, nearly toppling over. He used the wall to steady himself as he adjusted the temperature. It was hot out, so it didn’t take long.

Brett didn’t even put on real clothes when he was done. He just pulled on a pair of boxers and collapsed into bed, wet hair still uncombed.

His bed was so soft, so much better than Nora and Erika’s floor, even if his apartment wasn’t as nice and Justin wasn’t next to him. It was going to take some time to learn how to sleep without him there. He wasn’t even that far away; Brett could easily drive over there almost any time he wanted. But he missed his boyfriend.

***

Brett groaned and pulled his blanket over his face to block out the rising sun, but it got too hot too fast and he couldn’t breathe so he pushed it down to his shoulder again. Now, on top of everything from yesterday, Brett’s nose was both clogged and runny and he had to breathe through his mouth, which made his throat even worse.

The doctor’s office opened at 8:30. When he called, his voice was scratchy and his throat cut like there was glass embedded in it. They had an appointment at 9:00. He’d be pushing it, but it was all they had, so he rushed out of bed and pulled on the first clean clothes he found, a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He didn’t care that he looked stupid or that people might make fun of him, he just wanted to be comfortable.

Of course, the moment he merged onto the freeway, he hit a traffic jam. Brett groaned and grabbed his face and when he breathed in, there was an edge of a sob to it, because even if he could get a note for today he’d have to go back into work tomorrow still sick and it just kept getting worse and soon he’d, like, wake up and his head would have fallen off on the middle of the night or something.

He rushed into the office ten minutes late, stammering apologies to the receptionist. She looked up at him like she was about to lecture him on punctuality and how his dad taught him better, but when she saw him, her face softened and she said, “Go ahead and sit down, sweetie. I’ll tell the nurse you’re here.”

It was one nice thing about having the same office since he was a kid, although he’d switched doctors once or twice over the years. Everyone knew him and everyone knew what to say.

“Thank, Ms. Shelley,” Brett murmured.

He turned back toward the chairs when the office door opened and a woman said, “Is Brett Walker here yet?”

When he turned around, it was to face a woman he didn’t know. Then, he hadn’t been there since November, so she might not be new.

“That’s me,” he said.

“Oh, good! Dr. Stevens is about ready to see you. Come on back for your vitals.”

He followed her back, pausing hesitantly when she stopped at the scale. He pointed at it in question. Talking hurt too much.

“Go ahead and step on,” she said.

He did, then tilted his head back toward the ceiling and closed his eyes. Sometimes they let him skip this part, but it had been a long time and they probably needed to update his chart. He bit his lip and took a deep breath through his nose, holding tight.

But everyone had an agreement with him: he didn’t look at the number and they didn’t tell him what it was. It didn’t make the act of stepping on a scale any less terrifying, but at least he knew he didn’t have to worry about --

“189!”

Brett’s eyes flew open.

“Very good,” the nurse said. “You’re a little high, but nothing to be worried about.”

But Brett barely registered what she was saying. He didn’t hear the reassurances that he was fine, because he was almost _190_ pounds, and that was almost _200_. Even the lower range of 160-170 they told him to stay in was high. This was almost 30 pounds _more_ than that. _Oh God, oh shit, fuck. I’m disgusting._

He didn’t realize he was still standing on the scale until the nurse gently took his arm and led him back to the office. All he could think about was that number and how he was going to fix it.

He wouldn’t go out for ice cream with Justin anymore. He’d stop putting milk in his coffee. No more pizza. No more cheese at all. Instead of three meals and a snack he’d cut down to one small one. Maybe he’d go vegan like Justin, because while it was true Justin exercised a lot more, if Brett ate like him, maybe he could look like him. He could do this. He would be okay.

“Brett, are you all right?” the nurse asked. He finally looked over at her as they entered the little examination room.

“I… yeah,” he lied, but his voice broke over the words. Hopefully she just thought it was his sickness. “I just… I wasn’t… I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Oh, honey,” she said. She meant well but her voice was so _condescending_. She had no idea. She kept talking as she took his blood pressure, his temperature. “Don’t worry about it. Your weight is fine! It’s on the high end of your ideal BMI but it’s fine.” She paused and looked at the thermometer as she pulled it out of his ear. “Of, you do have a fever, though. 101.”

She wrote it down in his chart and asked him about his symptoms, and he talked quietly, quickly, both because it hurt to speak and because he wanted this woman to get _away_ from him.

When she left, his hands were shaking. He screwed his eyes closed and breathed as deeply as he could, grateful that even though he had so many things wrong with him right now, at least he didn’t have a cough and could still breathe. As he let it out, he rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, fingers curled tight, every muscle tense. _Just stay calm. If you stay calm and keep yourself together, you can fix this._

“Brett, what’s wrong?”

Brett’s eyes flew open to see Dr. Stevens closing the door behind her. Her mouth was drawn down, tight lines between her eyebrows. She knew there was something going on besides his illness.

“I’m _disgusting_ ,” Brett whispered. His voice cracked and it made him hate himself.

Her back stiffened. “The new tech told you how much you weigh.”

He pushed his hair out of his face and nodded. Dr. Stevens sat down in the chair across from his bed and placed her clipboard down by his chart. “I’m so sorry. We talked to her about it earlier today and your history with anorexia is written in your chart. She must have forgotten. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Brett said. _Okay, you wanted to go back to school for acting, right?_ Here was some real life experience. _You’re fine. Make her believe you’re fine or she’ll try to stage an intervention. You’re fine._ He straightened his shoulders.

“I’m fine,” he repeated. He smiled, but it was small, subtle, so it wouldn’t be obvious. “That was a long time ago. I just wasn’t expecting it and it freaked me out. But I’m okay.”

Dr. Stevens looked at him closely for a very long, silent moment, like she was trying to find the lie on his face. She didn’t see it, because she said, “All right. But we still have the number for your old therapist in your chart if you don’t anymore and you need it. Please don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything, okay?”

Brett nodded. But as she checked him over, his mind raced, trying to figure out the best way to get the weight off. It’d be harder than it was in high school because it was so much more to lose, but if he didn’t waver, he could make it happen.

When Dr. Stevens finished checking him over, she gave him her diagnosis: it _was_ flu. It was bad, already a bacterial infection. She wrote him a prescription and gave him a basic sickness rundown: drink lots of fluids, push vitamin C, get plenty of rest.

“And stay out of work until you’re better,” she said firmly. “I know you work in food service. _Please_ stay home until you’re well.”

She softened when the tension crossed Brett’s face. “But I --”

“I’ll write you a note for the week, until next Monday. You can go back sooner if you’re well, but it will cover you until then.”

“But I just took a week off. If I miss any more work I won’t be able to make rent and they might even fire me, they _hate_ when people call off --”

“Brett,” she said firmly. He quieted. “I understand, and I wish I could help. But you _need_ to stay home until you’re well. You’re very, _very_ sick, and if you don’t get some rest, you’re going to get worse. I know how important work is to you, but your health needs to take priority.”

Brett nodded, but had to strangle the frustrated huff in his throat. It was easy enough for her to say; she had a career with sick leave and job protection. He worked a shitty minimum wage job with management that would call him in for a double on a day off without so much as a thank you and then turn around and fire him for calling in because he had to be admitted to the hospital.

But she was right. If he worked himself too hard, he could end up in the hospital anyway, which would result in unemployment _and_ a pile of medical debt.

“Okay,” he finally conceded.

Dr. Stevens smiled and said, “Take the full run of medication. Don’t stop if you’re feeling better and there’s still some left. And if you’re not feeling better by the time the prescription is gone, come back and see me, okay?”

“Okay,” Brett repeated.

“Take care of yourself, Brett,” she said gently. As she gathered her clipboard and charts back up, she said, “And tell your dad I said ‘Hi,’ okay?”

“Sure.”

Brett had to get out of the room so they could use it for the next patient, but after Dr. Stevens stepped out, he sat silently for a few minutes, eyes unfocused on the wall.

While he was at home sick, he’d spend the time he could get out of bed fixing up his resume and putting in online job applications. He needed a new job anyway, one where he wouldn’t have to worry about things like this anymore. Hopefully he was worrying over nothing, but after his manager’s reaction to his day-off request, he wasn’t hopeful.

At least now, he could go straight home. Originally he’d planned on going by the grocery store on his way back, since he hadn’t had a chance since his return from California. Now that wasn’t necessary. And it was still early, so he could go home for a nap before filling his prescription at the pharmacy down the street from his apartment.

He stopped by the desk on his way out the door to make his co-pay, then finally went home. As he was walking in the door, he got a text from Justin.

_hey, how are you feeling?_

Brett let himself inside and kicked off his flip-flops as he texted back.

_Terrible. Just got home. I’m going to take a nap. I’ll call you when I wake up?_

He collapsed into bed without changing his clothes, but they were practically pajamas anyway. When his phone went off again, he didn’t answer it right away because it hurt too much to open his eyes. But finally, he squinted and flipped his phone open.

_okay. feel better. i love you. let me know if you need anything._

Since Brett didn’t need to reply, he dropped his phone on the table by his bed and rolled over, pulling the blanket over his head to block out the sunlight and try to get some sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

Justin bit his lip as he stared at his phone menu screen, waiting for a text from Brett that he wasn’t sure would come.

He shouldn’t doubt that Brett would respond, he still always did, even though his boyfriend never wanted to see him in person anymore. At first, Justin thought it was just because he was sick and needed rest. Some people didn’t like to be bothered when they were ill, or maybe Brett had been worried about infecting him.

Justin was giving Brett more excuses than Brett was giving himself, because he wanted them to be true. He wanted Brett to want to see him, but for some reason, neither of them were ever free at the same time.

The screen went black. Justin hit the menu button. The light came back, but still no text.

Then Brett got well enough to go back to work, but he was so busy, he’d said, and he was still pretty tired, so usually when he was at home, he was asleep. Maybe next week when he was feeling better.

Next week came, and Justin was only able to see him briefly during the middle of it because Brett left his shirt at his house that first night they got back and Justin wanted to drop it off. At least, that was Justin’s excuse. Brett would have invited him in, he’d said, but he was just on his way to work, but thanks for bringing it by.

And when he’d wrapped his arm around Justin’s waist and kissed him, it was like nothing had ever been wrong, like he hadn’t disappeared for three weeks, and it wasn’t reassuring at all.

It had been a total of four weeks now. Brett and Nate were both back in school. Until then, at least Brett would call him sometimes, but now that he was so busy with his classes, he still answered Justin’s calls but never took the initiative to make any of his own. Something was wrong, and Justin didn’t know what it was, and not knowing kept leading him back to the same fear:

Brett hadn’t been ready to sleep with him. It was too soon. He’d felt pressured into it and now he needed to be away from Justin. _I fucked this up_.

Justin’s phone beeped and he looked down. It was just his mom. He looked through the window at her house across the street, where he was supposed to be right now. But he was wasting time trying to get Brett to talk to him, because even the sting of rejection was better than anything his parents might dish out.

The fear of losing Brett chewed and clawed at Justin violently, desperately, because he needed Brett _so much_ , Brett was the most important person in the world to him, and now he’d driven him away and might not be able to fix it. Justin _knew_ how serious sex was to some people, and even though for a long time, he’d only had it casually, with Brett, it _meant_ something. It was important because _he_ was important. Justin _loved_ him. He’d do anything to fix whatever he’d done, but he couldn’t because Brett wouldn’t talk to him about it.

His phone went off again. It was Brett, this time. The breath he’d been holding slowly hissed out through his teeth, leaving him a little lightheaded.

_Sorry, I can’t do lunch today. My school schedule’s different from last term so I don’t get a break in the middle anymore._

Justin sighed, pocketed his phone, and stepped out of his car. He paused by the door as a car went by and looked back up at his mom and dad’s house. The clawing anxiety in his throat got worse, shooting down into his chest, his stomach, even up into his mouth, thick and dry and heavy like cotton-wrapped rocks. He hadn’t been here since he moved out. He’d seen them for Christmas, but that was always at his grandma’s. When he crossed the street and walked up to the front door, it felt like a funeral march.

It was too much. Justin couldn’t deal with Brett _and_ his mom at the same time. He nearly turned around and walked back to his car. She hadn’t seen him yet. He could get away with it.

But he didn’t, because he was an adult, and sometimes that meant doing things he didn’t want to.

He rang the doorbell. When his mom answered, she looked older, smaller, even though it had only been two months since he’d last seen her. The wrinkles around her eyes and mouth had doubled and she’d lost a lot of weight.

“Hey Sus-- Mom,” Justin said. He hadn’t seen a therapist since his freshman year of college, but one of her pieces of advice always stuck with him: “Call your parents by their first names. It helps take some of their power away.”

But Susan _hated_ it. She thought it was so disrespectful that the first time he’d tried she’d given him a dressing down right there at the dinner table in front of his dad.

Justin tucked his hands tightly in his pockets, safe, and Susan curled her hands around his forearm and led him inside.

“Hi, Justin!” she said brightly. She hadn’t noticed his almost slip. “I’m so glad you could come. My computer is being so weird. It’s slower than normal and sometimes things just close when they aren’t supposed to.”

“You’ve probably got some viruses or spyware or something,” Justin said. “I’ll run an anti-virus and clean out your junk and you should be okay.” He wasn’t _great_ with computers, but he knew enough, and Susan’s was just a basic PC with nothing special. He could figure it out. She followed him back to the office and he plopped down in the desk chair in front of the computer. She put her hand on his shoulder.

“So, what’s the problem, exactly? Is there anything else, or just what you’ve told me?”

“Well, some of my files aren’t opening. And some aren’t even there anymore. I tried to remember how to do the system restore thing you told me about, but I couldn’t find it, so I must have been doing it wrong.”

“Okay.” Justin started up the computer. “Have you been updating the anti-virus software program I installed for you?”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

“ _Mom_ ,” he groaned, “I _told_ you, you need to keep it updated, especially with this computer. It even automatically tells you. All you have to do is click when the notification comes up.”

“Oh,” she said. “So that’s what that was? I was just ignoring them.”

“You didn’t even _read_ them?” _Don’t yell_. Susan didn’t know anything about computers, and he’d always known that. At least she was being pleasant enough now, so the inconvenience of a virus-riddled computer wasn’t that bad, right?

“No?” she said. She sounded a little unsure, now. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

“Always read those. Always. They’re really important, okay?”

“Okay.”

“All right. Let me see what I can do.”

“Would you like some coffee?” she asked. “I have some nice Italian coffee, like the one you bought me for Christmas last year.”

Justin finally looked up at his mom, away from the computer, and the way she looked at him knocked all the annoyance out of him. “Yeah, Mom,” he said softly. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” There was something different in her smile, something he hadn’t seen since he was little. Since long before he came out. “Your dad should be home in about an hour. Do you want to eat dinner with us tonight?”

“Do you have anything I _will_ eat?” Justin laughed.

“I’ll have you know I’ve been eating a lot more vegetables recently,” she said, propping her hands on her hips. “I’m sure I can figure something vegan out.”

Justin laughed. Susan smiled. “I’ll leave you alone to figure this out for now,” she said. “We can talk when you’re done. I still feel bad about missing your birthday dinner and I want to make it up to you.”

“Don’t even,” Justin said, waving her worries away with a flick of his hand. “It’s not a big deal. I went out with some friends. It’s not like I was alone.”

“Well, okay,” she said hesitantly. She dropped a kiss on his head and said, “I’ll let you know when the coffee’s ready,” before turning away and leaving the office.

Justin turned back to the computer and tinkered around for a few minutes to see what was where.

There were months of updates to install, for the OS, for the anti-virus program, for the firewall, for everything. She was lucky the computer was working at all.

He started with the OS updates, then moved on to her anti-virus program, which was _two years_ out of date. She hadn’t updated it once since Justin installed it. _Really, Susan?_ He sighed and updated that, too, but he didn’t know if it would do much. He might be able to get rid of the viruses but he probably couldn’t do anything about her files. Hopefully she made backups, because all he could do was damage control.

Half the icons in her My Computer folder were missing. How did he fix that? Could he? _Great_. He was going to have to wipe everything and then it was going to be his fault.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. He didn’t trust the computer clock. He might be able to catch Brett in the ten minutes between his classes. Maybe he could help.

It went to voicemail, which wasn’t a surprise. “Hey, it’s me. I’m at my mom’s and her computer’s really fucked up. I’m pretty sure you run the same OS and was hoping you’d be familiar with the problems she was having, and maybe could help? Give me a call when you get out of class.” He hesitated, but then he added, because he had to, “I love you.”

He put his phone away and rummaged around in the desk drawers to see if there were any restore discs. “Hey, Mom?” he called. “Could you come here?”

She poked her head through the doorway. “What do you need, hon?

“Did you back up your files?”

“How do you do that?” she asked. _Shit_.

“Um, I have some bad news,” Justin said. “Were any of those files really important? Do other people have them, too?”

“Mostly it was just family pictures,” she said. She shifted her weight between her feet as she spoke. “Most of them are from CDs that other people in the family gave me and the rest were from the photo album you scanned for me. What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I can’t fix this. If you take it to a specialist, they might be able to salvage it, but I don’t know enough to know if that’s possible. If you don’t want to do that, I’m going to have to wipe it. I’ll start it now and work on it throughout the afternoon. It should be done by the time I leave. But this time, update your things, okay?”

“Oh,” she whispered. Justin looked up. Her hand was curled into a tight, shaking fist, pressed against her chest. “Oh, this is my fault. Oh, no.”

“It’s okay,” Justin said. “You have everything that’s important backed up somewhere, so you won’t lose anything. I left a message for my boyfriend and --”

“Your what?” Her breath caught. Her eyes went wide and scared, like a rabbit cornered by a coyote. Justin tensed. He swiveled the chair so he could better see her face.

“My boyfriend?” he said softly, nervously. “I mean, I came out years ago. It was going to happen eventually. I mean… you knew that, right?”

She opened her mouth slightly, closed it again. Her hands were shaking and her eyes wide and terrified.

“Mom?” he asked again. It caught tight in his throat. “Mom, what’s wrong?” _Oh, God, I can’t do this again._ He couldn’t. Especially not with Nora gone. The therapy, the drama, the preaching. He _couldn’t_. Especially not right now, not with whatever was going on with Brett.

“I…” she whispered. Her eyes darted over her face. “I…” She paused, swallowed, started again. “Will you come into the kitchen and have a cup of coffee with me? We need to talk.”

_Shit_.

“Okay.” Justin could barely hear himself.

She led him to the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee, placing them down on the table before bringing over the sugar. The gentle click of porcelain on the wood table was like a gunshot.

“I know you don’t like milk in your coffee,” she said quietly. “So here’s some sugar. I don’t know if it’s the vegan kind? I got it at that fancy store where you took me that one time.”

“Trader Joe’s? Yeah, that’s vegan.”

“That’s good.” She picked up her mug and walked over to the fridge, placing the cup down again on the counter beside it. She poured herself some milk, put it back, closed the fridge. She didn’t turn around. For what seemed like hours, she just stood there, although that was impossible because when she turned back around, Justin’s coffee was still hot. His grip on the mug was so tight he was surprised he hadn’t snapped the handle off. He stared into it, praying silently.

_Please, please, **please**_. Justin didn’t even know what he was asking for. It had taken so long for his family to put everything back together when he was younger. He didn’t know if he could deal with everything breaking back down again.

“We…” She paused. Breathed for a few moments, started again. “We need to talk,” she said. She sat down across from him.

“About what?”

“Your father.”

Justin didn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say. He was silent for a few minutes.

“What about him?” he finally asked. “I mean, he knows, too. He went to the therapy with us and everything.”

“I know,” Susan whispered. She stretched her arm across the table, hand open and facing up. He took it.

“He --” she started, but then stopped again. Whatever it was, she was afraid to say it.

_Oh God. Please, please, please, I can’t do this again. Please. I’ll never ask for anything else again. Ever. Just please, please give me this. Please just let us be okay._

“He what?” Justin asked. He still hadn’t looked up from his coffee, afraid to meet her eyes.

“He --” She paused again, took a few breaths, and started over. “He’s gotten really bad over these last few months.”

“What do you mean, really bad? What happened? Is he sick? Why didn’t you tell me?” But he knew exactly what she was going to say. His dad -- _Paul,_ his therapist’s voice whispered -- wasn’t sick. He wasn’t hurt. He was ashamed. Disgusted. _He was always the one that had the hardest time with you, and now that you’re not around to deal with, he’s not going to anymore._

“No,” Susan said. Her voice was shaky and it caught in her throat. Justin’s chest was tight and he couldn’t breathe, because he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this. _Please, please, please, I can’t go through all this again._

“No,” she repeats. “He… he went back to that church we used to go to when you were younger. Before they kicked us out. I didn’t go with him. I couldn’t, not after what they put us through. With the way the pastor treated you, the horrible things he said. And I know I’m not innocent. I know I said and did a lot of terrible things, too. And I’m so sorry, Justin. I’ve been trying to put it right, but I --” Her voice caught again. Tears glimmered in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Justin. I’m so sorry for all the things I did and said while you were growing up. I love you so much. I love you and your brother so, so much. I’ve been trying to make up for it but I don’t know if I can, or if you’ll even let me, or --” And then she choked out a strangled sob and Justin’s eyes started tearing up, too. He gripped tight to her hand, like it was his only lifeline.

She took a shuddering breath and continued before he got a chance to reply. “I don’t know why he went back. I told him not to, but he wouldn’t listen. I don’t even know why he was so set one it, but he was, and I don’t know what they talk about but he’s so…”

“Homophobic?” Justin whispered.

“Yeah,” Susan said softly. Her voice was so sad. Maybe a little angry, but Justin couldn’t be sure. “I don’t know what they talk about. But he’s changed. He… he says a lot of bad things about you. And Noah, too, because he’s always been so open and supportive of you, like we should have been. He says a lot of bad things about what he would do if you ever brought home another man.”

Justin closed his eyes. His hand tightened around his mother’s and he took in a shaky breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have. I didn’t want to upset you. It was wrong to hide it from you, but I was… I was hoping he’d stop. That I could fix it and everything would be okay and you’d never have to know. I haven’t told Noah, either. I know how much it would upset him. I’m sorry.” Her voice shook. She covered her mouth and closed her eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “ I love you, Justin. I love you and your brother so much. And I love your dad but… he’s different now. He’s completely changed. He’s so angry and hateful all the time.”

Both of them were quiet for a very long time. Justin’s mouth was dry, like his tongue was made of cotton. Were his hands shaking? The must have been. His breathing was, and it took a few attempts before he could bring in a real breath, one that got enough oxygen to his head. His head spun as the floor slowly slipped out from underneath him. He covered his face, even though it wouldn’t hide him or change anything. It wouldn’t change the fact that his father hated him. Maybe he always had. Maybe he’d just been lying when he said everything was okay again. He was ashamed of Justin, disgusted by him, no better than the bullies from school who pushed him into lockers and shoved him down stairs. Not even that. He _was_ one of them, now. Justin was losing his dad. Maybe he’d lost him already.

Susan choked back a sob. When Justin looked up, she was crying. He held her hand a little tighter, but was afraid to do anything else. He was afraid to stand up and walk around the table and hug her, and that hurt so _much_.

“Is that why you’ve always said he’s out when I’m on the phone? Why he’s never with you when we go out to lunch or dinner?” Both he and Nora had noticed it, but neither of them really thought about it until Susan started being avoidant a few months ago. Paul had never been good about keeping in touch. Justin figured he was just busy and passing messages onto Susan to get to him.

Susan nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I miss you. I know I don’t call enough. I want to see you but I’m afraid of what he’ll do if you see each other. I love you, Justin. I’m sorry. I should have told you earlier. I was just… I mean, you were here already and I thought the computer might take a while, and he’s going to be home soon and I thought if we all say down to talk about it we could maybe… we could fix it. I wasn’t trying to set you up. I wasn’t even thinking of it when you came over. I love you, Justin. I’m sorry.”

“I love you, too, Mom,” Justin whispered. And he did. And he loved Paul, even though they’d had their problems. He should have been angry, furious. _I should hate him_. But he didn’t know if he could. All he was was deeply, deeply sad and a little bit afraid.

He pushed his mug to the side and slid his hand away from Susan’s, putting them both on the back of his neck and resting his forehead on the table. _Shit. What am I going to do?_ He’d already lost so much of his family. He didn’t know if he could handle losing any more.

Justin didn’t look up when Susan’s chair legs scratched across the linoleum floor, the soft pads of her footsteps. She pulled him into a hug, but he just stared blankly at the table. The dark wood was blurry, but he refused to let the tears fall. Not in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She kissed the top of his head. “I want to do something, but I don’t know what. I don’t know if I can. I love you, sweetie. I’m sorry.”

Justin nodded, but didn’t say anything. What was there to say?

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to stay for dinner after all,” he finally whispered. “I have a lot going on right now and I don’t think I can handle this on top of everything else.”

“I understand.” Her voice broke on the last syllable. “I’m trying,” she continued, rushed, urgent. “I’m trying to talk to him. I’m trying to change his mind and get him to come to my church. But so far he’s not listening. I’m trying. I am.”

“There’s --” Justin choked on the word and had to start over again. “There’s probably nothing you can do. You can’t change it. People like that don’t change.”

“Don’t say that,” Susan said sternly, but Justin could hear the tears in her voice. “He will. I’ll change his mind. I’ll --”

“No, Mom,” Justin interrupted. “You won’t.” He wanted her to prove him wrong. But he had to be realistic or it would be even harder when nothing changed.

He took a deep, shaky breath and finally hugged her back. She pulled him close, wrapped her arms around him a little tighter. She hadn’t held him like this since she was “Mommy” and he was a small child afraid of the dark. _You’re stupid and childish_. But he didn’t care. Maybe he didn’t even _want_ to care.

He gently pushed her away and stood.

“You’re going to have to wipe the computer,” he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. “I’ve got to get going, so I’ll get it started. All you have to do is put in the disc numbers the computer asks for. I’ll come back tomorrow after work to reinstall the programs you need. What time is Dad at work?”

“He isn’t,” she said.

“I’ll email you instructions, then. I don’t want to cause any more problems.”

“Justin,” Susan said, “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. We’re the ones who --”

“Can you show me where you put the restore discs?” Justin interrupted.

She took him back to the office and pulled out the discs they needed. Justin got the restore started, reminded her of what she needed to do, and then left with a soft, “See you later, I guess.”

When he got back to his car, for a few minutes, he sat in silence. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. 3:00. Brett would be just getting out of class. Justin called, and when Brett picked up, the tension melted out of him, because he was still there, and even if there were problems and even if Justin didn’t know what they were, Brett was there, with him.

“Hey, Justin!” he said.

Justin meant to say, “Hey, how are you?” or “Can we meet up somewhere?” or even just “Hey, Brett,” but what came out was a heavy, broken sob.

“Justin?” Brett’s voice was suddenly a little too high-pitched. “Justin, what’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I’m sorry,” Justin said. It stuck in his mouth, thick, heavy. “I’m sorry, I just --”

“Where are you?” Brett repeated.

“I’m in my parents’ driveway. I’m just leaving.”

Brett’s voice dropped, serious. “What happened?”

“Is --” Justin had to pause to clear his throat, to try to get his voice to stop shaking. “Can we meet someplace? Your place, my place, I don’t care, I just need to see you. Please.”

“Yeah, of course.” Brett said it like his agreement was the most obvious thing in the world, like he’d never consider saying ‘no,’ and Justin couldn’t help it, he was so relieved that Brett still wanted to see him that he broke down in heavy, dry sobs.

“Justin? What’s wrong? What happened?” Brett’s words were too fast, his voice shaking and terrified. “Talk to me, _please_. Where are you? Are you okay to drive?”

“I’m sorry,” Justin choked. He paused and inhaled deeply to steady himself. He squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he spoke again, calmer. “I’m just leaving my mom and… Susan and Paul’s. Paul… I’m not sure exactly what’s going on, other than Susan is telling me he hates me because I’m gay and would do something terrible if he finds out I’m with another man. You. Apparently he’s gone back to our old shitty church instead of going with Susan to hers, and they’ve gotten to him bad.”

“Oh, shit,” Brett whispered. “Justin, I’m so sorry. Is there anything --”

“Please, I just need to see you.” Justin didn’t care how desperate it sounded. He didn’t care how stupid.

“Of course,” Brett said. “Of course. I just got out of class and was on my way home. Do you want to meet me there? Or would you rather me come by your place? Which is easier for you?”

“I’d rather yours, if that’s okay,” Justin said softly. “I don’t… I just need us right now. I know I have to talk to Nate, but… later. Right now I need just us. Please.”

“Of course,” Brett repeated. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Are you okay to drive?”

“Yeah.” Justin took in another shuddering breath, scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand to clear them. “Yeah,” he repeated.

“All right. I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay.”

When Brett ended the call with “I love you so much, okay?” Justin nearly broke down again. _You are a fucking mess._

But somehow, through some crazy miracle, he managed to make it to Brett’s apartment complex with no tears and without having to pull over to compose himself. When he got to the door, Brett didn’t answer his knock. Maybe he wasn’t home yet. Justin leaned against the wall to wait and pulled out his phone to send Nate a text.

_paul’s probably disowned me. he’s back at the church and will probably do something terrible if he finds out about brett. we'll talk later when we're both at home._

A few moments later, Nate replied.

_Oh, fuck. I'm so sorry, Justin. We'll talk when we get home. I'm done with work at 10P. If you need anything at all, tell me ASAP, okay?_

Justin scrubbed at his eyes again as he shoved his phone back in his pocket. He closed his eyes, and leaned back when a pair of warm, thin arms wrapped around his shoulders. He would recognize that hug anywhere.

“Hey, Brett,” he murmured.

“Hey.” Brett’s lips on his cheek were so warm and wonderful and perfect and exactly what Justin needed. “Come inside with me, okay?”

Justin opened his eyes as Brett turned away to unlock the door. His clothes fell loose and his eyes were ringed in dark circles. He’d lost so much weight since their trip to California. He _was_ really sick, but shouldn’t he have started gaining some of it back by now?

When Justin rested his hand on Brett’s hip, he could feel the bone under his jeans, sharp and thin. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Brett’s expression was normal when he looked up, but Justin thought he heard something… different in his voice. Quiet. Almost afraid. Why?

“You’ve lost so much weight,” Justin said.

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Brett said. “I’m fine.” He took Justin’s hand and led him to the bed. His knuckles cracked against the bones in his fingers when he curled his fingers. Was he getting sicker?

“Brett, what --“

“What happened?”

Justin swallowed and sighed as Brett gently pushed him down to the bed by his shoulder. His boyfriend sat down beside him. “Just… just what I told you. I don’t know why. I just… I just know what’s happening. And --”

Justin looked over at Brett and curled his fingers around the thinner man’s palm where it rested on his knee. His grip was maybe a little too tight, but he needed to be close to Brett right now. When Justin pressed Brett’s palm to his lips, he held it there, breathing in the smell of his skin.

“Justin, what --”

“Why have you been avoiding me?” Justin suddenly blurted. Brett stilled, silent. When Justin finally opened his eyes to look into Brett’s, Brett’s eyes were wide, _hurt_.

“I --” Brett’s voice squeaked a little. He cleared his throat and started again. “I’m sorry, Justin. I haven’t… I didn’t… I wasn’t avoiding you. Not on purpose. I promise. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I’ve just had so much going on, and with school starting back up, and my hours keep being cut so I have to pick up other people’s shifts when they’ll let me and I’ve been so sick, even after I wasn’t contagious anymore and could go back to work and…” He trailed off and grunted in frustration. “I’m so sorry. I hate it, too. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry if the way I was acting about it made you feel like it was your fault. I’m an asshole. And I’m sorry. I’ve missed you so much.”

“So it’s not…” Justin trailed off. His eyes darted over Brett’s face. His cheeks were thinner, his nose sharper, he looked so _sick_ and Justin just wanted to help. But his eyes were the same: soft, gentle, honest. “I didn’t… it’s not because of what happened in San Francisco?”

Brett’s eyebrows drew together in confusion, then his eyes went wide and he put his hands on either of Justin’s cheeks, the sharp joints in his hands against rough skin. He pressed his forehead to Justin’s and kissed him, then pulled away just enough to say, “No, no, oh, God, Justin, no. No.” He kissed his boyfriend again, quick and hard, and Justin rested his hands on Brett’s thin waist as Brett curled his fingers in Justin’s hair.

“So you don’t… I didn’t push you? Right? You don’t regret it, do you?” Justin asked. His voice was shaky. Brett’s mouth was so close they could feel each other breathe.

“No, Justin. No. Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” Brett stumbled. “No. I don’t regret anything. I'm so glad we had that week together and I'm so grateful for everything that happened. When things get especially hard I think of it and I think of you and it helps me get through the roughest of it. I love you, Justin. I don't regret sleeping with you. Never.”

And even though absolutely nothing with Justin’s family was resolved, when Brett reassured him that, yes, he still loved him, yes, he still wanted to be with him, Justin pulled him close and buried his face in his boyfriend’s neck because at least one thing was okay. He and Brett were okay. And knowing that would give Justin the strength to get through the rest of it.

Then a sharp pang of hunger hit his stomach and it grumbled. Justin backed up slightly and put a hand on it before giving Brett a weak, sheepish smile.

“Do you want to maybe go out for a late lunch?” he asked. “Sorry, I haven’t eaten much today and I guess it’s catching up with me.”

Even though Brett didn’t move, he seemed to draw away. His hand tightened on Justin’s.

“I --” It came out choked. _Oh, no, what now?_ “I don’t have enough money for something like that. I’m sorry. I was just barely able to make rent this month and I’m still not caught up yet. I’m basically down to counting pennies. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll pay?” Justin offered, softly, unsurely. Why did Brett look so scared? “I have no problem with that. It’s fine. Really.”

Brett’s breath caught, his lips parted in protest, but before he could turn Justin down again, Justin blurted out,

“Do you not want to be seen in public with me? Like, is there someone around town you’re afraid of coming out to?”

Brett’s eyes widened. “Justin --” he started, but his boyfriend didn’t let him finish.

“If you don’t want to be open in public, I’m okay with that,” he said. “I know it’s not like San Francisco here. I understand. Really. I… we don’t have to be open.”

“Justin, that’s…” Brett stopped and curled his fingers in his hair, growling in frustration. “Justin, it’s not… I’m not ashamed of you. I want to be with you. I mean, I’m not ready to be open in public yet, but it’s not --”

“Then we don’t have to be,” Justin said quickly, almost desperately. Brett needed to understand that he respected that, that he respected _him_. “But… that doesn’t mean we can’t still go out, right? Just… I mean, we won’t hold hands or kiss or do any couple stuff until we get back home. But we can still go out and do things, right? Like we used to?”

When Brett looked up, his eyes were sad, hurt, maybe a little scared, and Justin didn’t understand _why_.

“I miss you, Brett,” he finally whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Brett whispered back. He curled his arms tight around Justin’s shoulders and pulled close, almost crawling into his lap. “I miss you, too. I love you. I’m sorry.” His face was hot in Justin’s shoulder, his cheekbones sharp. “Please let me fix this, okay?”

Justin nodded, pressing his cheek tight to Brett’s temple.

“Let me change into some better clothes and we’ll go out.”


	20. Chapter 20

Lunch… dinner? Brett didn’t know what meal it was, just that it was the most stressful one he’d ever eaten, even though he mostly just cut it up and moved it around on the plate. But he had to eat _some_ of it. Justin paid for it. He couldn’t let it go to waste. Brett tried to get something healthy -- tofu with vegetables -- but he didn’t know what was in the sauce it came in and there were so many noodles and all he knew for sure was anything from a restaurant was going to be terrible and unhealthy and full of calories and fat and salt and sugar. Brett just wanted to spend a few hours with Justin, just the two of them, but with the food involved, he couldn’t _enjoy_ it. He spent the whole time pretending to eat and trying to ignore the sick feeling the lies left in his stomach.

They went out for coffee after, which was so much easier, because unsweetened tea was clean, it was safe, and Brett didn’t have to obsess over what he was putting in and how he’d get it out later. Where the meal was stressful and quiet, after-dinner coffee was nice, calm, at the little coffee shop not to far from where he lived. It was small, but nice, and there was a woman in the corner with an acoustic guitar and a beautiful voice and the only thing that could make it better would be if he could hold Justin’s hand from across the table, but Brett wasn’t ready for that, yet.

How was he going to get that food out?

“There’s an audition for Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead being held next weekend,” he said. He took a sip of his tea. It was safe, he had to remind himself. It was safe. “I was thinking of trying out if I can get past the rust by then.”

“You should!” Justin grinned. “Do you know what part?”

“I’d love to do one of the leads,” Brett said, “but I know that’s not likely since nobody knows me. Maybe the head of the traveling acting troupe.”

“Let me know how it goes,” Justin said. “I can come out for moral support, if you want.”

“Yeah.” Brett smiled back.

How was he going to get that food _out_? Brett only had two options, both of which would be painful.

He kept his face straight. _Don’t let your thoughts show_. Brett didn’t need an intervention. He was down fifteen pounds. It wasn’t even halfway to his goal weight, but he was getting there, and if Justin thought something was wrong, he’d butt in and ruin everything. He meant well, but he didn’t understand. It would be better if he didn’t know. _It’s better if nobody knows_.

Brett needed to get to a bathroom, but the one here wasn’t safe, because what if Justin walked in behind him?

“Hey, Justin?” he asked. Justin looked away from the guitarist and back at Brett.

“Yeah?”

“Could… I’m really sorry, but I need to get home. I have a monologue I need to start working on and it’s going to take me a while.”

Justin’s smile faded, but he forced it back up. “Okay.” He took one last sip of his coffee and stood. Brett grabbed his cup, clinging to it like a lifeline.

“Sorry,” he repeated. “I wish I could stay. But --”

“I understand,” Justin said. “I know school’s important, too.”

“Yeah.” Brett’s smile was weak, but he meant it. He was so grateful for Justin, for his patience, for his understanding. And it wasn’t a lie, he reassured himself. He did have a monologue to work on. He had to perform for the class on Friday.

The car ride was quiet, but Justin kept his hand on Brett’s knee the whole time. Brett rested his atop it, curling his fingers around Justin’s palm. He wished he could make Justin understand how important he was, how much he loved him, but he kept screwing it up.

_From now on, I’ll do better. I’ll fix this._

***

“Do you want me to walk you up?” Justin asked. They were parked at the far end of the parking lot, over by the dumpsters for building A. Brett shook his head.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

The hurt on Justin’s face punched Brett right in his already cramping stomach, and he doubled back on himself and said, “How about you come over tomorrow after you get out of work so you can see me practice? Work’s down to like, two days a week now so we’ll be able to spend a little more time together.”

Justin’s smile came back and he nodded.

_Thank God. I can’t afford to screw this up._ His relationship with Justin was the best thing to ever happen to him and Brett would do anything to hold onto it.

Justin kissed him goodbye. Brett walked at a steady pace until he was around the corner, at the staircase and out of sight of the parking lot, and then he _ran_. He jumped the stairs two at a time and ran down the hallway to his door like there were wolves on his heels, and his hands were shaking so hard by the time he got there that he dropped his keys twice before he could finally let himself in.

He didn’t empty his pockets or kick off his shoes. He went straight to his bathroom because it was either this or the gym and he hadn’t been to the gym since high school. If he went back, everyone would _know_. He half-glanced at the mirror from the corner of his eye. _You are disgusting_.

When his knees hit the tile, it was too hard, sharp, cold even though his jeans. He took a few deep breaths to steel himself, then leaned over the toilet bowl, but he couldn’t get his fingers back far enough. His knuckles were too wide. He groaned and then they hit something and he gagged but nothing came up, so he pushed back farther and leaned forward at the same time and his stomach clenched and _there._ He held his fingers for a few more seconds and then his stomach lurched so hard he jerked forward and accidentally bit. It burned like hell and it was disgusting but he _had_ to do this. It was what he’d earned for eating earlier.

In about a minute, it was over, and Brett could breathe again. Relief washed over him and his muscles relaxed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood, flushing the toilet and turning to the sink to wash his hands and brush his teeth. When he looked down at his hands, he noticed the bite mark on his index and middle fingers. _Shit_. He’d drawn blood. Now Justin was going to ask and Brett was going to have to come up with an explanation. And it would still be there on Friday when he worked with Cass and she was going to ask, too.

Maybe he could say he was picking up fish food and was playing with a rabbit and got bitten. Maybe he had a teething cousin? But even though Justin had never met his family, he knew everything about them, and knew Brett’s youngest cousin was nine. He needed to use the same story for both or he’d screw it up.

How was he going to explain this to Justin? Justin knew everything about him, everything about his family, everything about his _everything_. He could just bandage it up and say he had an accident at work? Justin would see right through it. He might not figure out what happened, but he’d know Brett was lying, and his boyfriend probably already thought he was hiding something. _Shit shit shit **fuck**_. He could just brush it off. Say there was a stupid accident and change the subject. Then kiss him. If he kissed Justin, he’d get distracted and forget about it.

_I’m the worst boyfriend in the world. Maybe the worst **person** in the world_. Justin loved Brett, Justin trusted him, and Brett was thinking of using that against him? He _was_ disgusting, and it was because of a lot more than his body.

Brett slid down the mirror -- the full length mirror, so he could never escape himself, how ugly and terrible and disgusting he was -- and to the floor, pulling up his knees to his chest and burying his face there. _You’re fucking pathetic_. Worthless. What was he going to do? He couldn’t lie and he couldn’t tell the truth. If Justin knew, he’d leave. Justin was the best thing to ever happen to him and he was screwing it all up, and he was going to leave, and Brett wasn’t just going to lose his boyfriend, but his _best_ friend, too.

Brett loved Justin and he was thinking of using his boyfriend’s emotions and insecurities against him. Already, he’d started lying, and Justin believed him.

Just like Annie did. Brett promised when he went into recovery he’d never do this to someone again, and here he was. _Liar_.

When he pushed his hair out of his face, his finger grazed his cheek, hot and wet. He was crying.

_But who cares?_ He deserved to feel this way.

He couldn’t deal with knowing the mirror was behind him. He pushed himself to his feet, using the counter for leverage. His left foot was heavy and sharp and half asleep so he stumbled when he took a step and had to steady himself against the wall and his vision started to blur from the tears and he was dizzy and his stomach cramped, but he deserved it. He had it coming.

By the time he got back to his desk, his foot was awake again. He was about to turn on his computer when his phone rang. It was his dad. He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes and took a deep breath, then answered.

“Hey, Dad.” Brett’s voice was soft, but at least it wasn’t shaking.

“Are you at work?” he asked. Brett’s eyebrows drew together and he sat up a little straighter, his empty hand flat on his desk.

“No, I’m at home. I have tonight off. Is everything okay?”

“Are you sitting down?”

_Oh, no. Oh, shit._ The only time he ever asked was when he had bad news. Was it Darcey? Brett hadn’t heard from him in about a week, but --

“Yeah. Dad, What happened?”

“Your aunt Jess called,” his dad started. _Oh no, oh --_ “She got a call from Darcey earlier. He’s being sent back to Iraq in two weeks.”

Suddenly Brett’s whole body was like ice, his blood like slush in his veins. “ _What_?” It was barely a whisper. It was all he could manage. “No.” A little louder. “ _No_!” Nearly shouting. “No, Dad, he’s retiring this month. He’s coming home in two weeks, not going out --”

“He’s been stop-lossed. They’re sending him out for two years.”

_No. No. They can’t_. Darcey was retiring, he was coming home, he was --

“Is he okay?” Brett asked. His words were hurried, high-pitched, a little angry. “What --”

“As okay as he can be,” his dad said. “He’s scared, but hiding it well. Jess and Ally are both taking it really hard. I think we’re all afraid he might not come back this time. We were lucky he did after his first two tours.”

“It’s an active combat area?” Brett asked. His mouth was too heavy, dry. It stuck, sharp and bitter.

“Yeah.”

When Brett breathed again, it was heavy and harsh. They were sending him back into war. _Oh God. Oh, fuck. Darcey._ What if they lost him? They came so close when he was in Iraq the first time and that building came down. He’d lost feeling in his arm from the nerve damage, but the doctor had said he was lucky he kept it at all. He was lucky to be alive.

_And now he’s going back and I really might lose him this time._

“Dad, is --” Brett choked a little, cleared his throat, and started again. “Can I call you back? I want to call him. I need to talk to him.”

“Yeah, of course. I love you, Brett. And even though I know it’s hard, I’m glad you decided to put yourself through school with work and scholarships. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Brett tried to force back the prickle in his throat. “I love you, too. I’ll talk to you again soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

Brett hung up and sent Darcey a text, just in case he was working.

_Call me. Remember we love you_.

He waited, staring at the screen, the battery hot against his palm, the screen slick under his thumb. For a long time, nothing. He gently put it to the side and turned his computer on. When he logged into his IM, Darcey wasn’t there.

Justin was.

 

**Mister_Cellophane** : Justin?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : What’s up?

**Mister_Cellophane** : Oh thank G-d I’m so glad you’re on

**DominatedLoveSlave** : What’s wrong?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Are you okay?

**Mister_Cellophane** : They’re sending Darcey back to Iraq again.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to come back over?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Because that’s not a problem.

 

Brett nearly broke down in tears of frustration, because oh, God, yes, he _did_ want Justin to come over, so, _so_ much. The only thing he wanted more was for Darcey to come home. But he was afraid to let Justin back into his space, afraid that, somehow, he’d know.

But he wanted Justin’s arms around him so badly, even though it wouldn’t fix anything.

 

**Mister_Cellophane** : Can you?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I’m on my way.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I love you, okay?

**Mister_Cellophane** : I love you. Thank you.

_User_ _DominatedLoveSlave_ _has logged off_

 

Brett spent the next twenty minutes staring at his screensaver. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional car outside, and the knock on his door was so sharp and sudden, when he jumped, he nearly fell out of his chair.

He walked to the door and reached for the knob. He hesitated, pulling back just slightly.

He unlocked and opened the door, and when Justin stepped inside and wrapped his arms around him, everything fell out in a wave of thick, ugly sobs and hot tears. Justin’s fists curled tight in the back of Brett’s shirt and his boyfriend’s breath tickled against his temple. When he whispered, “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ve got you. We’ll figure this out,” Brett could finally breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped. He pulled back, rubbing hard at his face, turning his head away, but not pulling back. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on?” Justin asked. Brett finally looked up at him. Justin’s brown eyes were so sad, so worried, and knowing it was because of him was like a knife in his stomach. “Is… is there something else? Are you…” Justin paused, licked his lips. He looked down and curled his hands a little tighter in Brett’s shirt. When he looked up again, he asked, “Are you sick?”

The panic and terror shot through Brett like a bullet. He prayed he recovered fast enough that Justin didn’t notice. “No,” he said. “No, just, ever since I got sick, they’ve been cutting my hours and this week I’m only getting two shifts, and just one next week, and… and just the stress about bills and I’ve been trying to look for work but I’m not having any luck and now Darcey, and it’s just so much and --”

“Okay, okay,” Justin said gently. “It’s okay.” And when Justin kissed him, Brett believed it.

His hand was warm on Brett’s cheek, so much bigger than his own, but so gentle. Keeping him safe, if only for now.

“Thank you,” Brett whispered. It was shaky, but the tears had stopped and he could think a little clearer again. “I’m sorry,” continued. “I know you’re having trouble with your family. I know you’re having a hard time, too.”

“It’s okay,” Justin repeated. Brett closed his eyes, pressing his nose and mouth into Justin’s palm and breathing him in. _Just breathe_. Then he could move on to the next thing. “I… it really sucks, but honestly, it was only a matter of time. I was hoping things would get better, but… I wasn’t actually expecting them to.”

Brett’s hand curled tighter around Justin’s and he opened his eyes. Justin was smiling, even though his heart was breaking in his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?” Brett asked gently.

Justin shook his head, but then stopped abruptly. For a long moment, he was still and silent, and then he said, “Yeah. I would, actually.”

“Come sit down with me,” Brett said. He took Justin’s other hand and led him to the bed.

After a while, they moved from the edge of the bed to sprawled over it, then curled into each other, and even though they didn’t always stay on topic, as Justin talked, he changed. His body language, his voice, from sad and dejected to angry to hopeless to sad again and then finally, to dull acceptance.

“I just…” he paused. His hands hung loosely in the air in front of him, mid-gesture. “They’re… I’m…” He growled in frustration, burying his face in his hands. Brett curled closer, leaning his head in Justin’s lap. Justin rested a hand on the back of Brett’s head. Brett didn’t try to force the conversation. He gave Justin time.

“Just… _fuck God_ ,” he finally snapped. “If it weren’t for God, all of this bullshit wouldn’t be happening. They’d have to take responsibility for themselves when I call them out on their homophobia and even if they didn’t change it, they wouldn’t be able to just shuffle it off on someone else who might not even _exist_. What reason do I even have to believe that He’s real? Some book written by a couple of old guys thousands of years ago? Yeah, that’s a great fucking history source. Just… no. I’m done. I’m fucking done. Enough.”

His hand curled a little too tightly in Brett’s hair and Brett flinched, hissing softly. It jerked open and Justin leaned down, kissing the back of Brett’s head as best he could from his angle.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Shit, Brett, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Brett murmured back. He rolled onto his back so he could look up at his boyfriend, really look at him for the first time since the conversation started. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Do… do you ever think about stuff like that?” Justin asked. His eyes were soft, vulnerable, scared. All he needed was someone who understood, and Brett didn’t, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Not really,” he said softly. “I don’t… I’m Jewish, but more ethnically and culturally than religiously. Everything I follow is more practical, day-to-day stuff. Eating Kosher. Not writing God’s name down on paper. Getting together with family for holidays. Like, holidays are the only time I even pray. I don’t read or go to synagogue or anything. I don’t _disbelieve_. I’m just really passive about it. I know what I think and that’s good enough for me, I guess. And who cares if someone else thinks I’m worshipping wrong.”

Justin’s eyebrows were drawn tight, painfully, and he parted his lips to speak. He hesitated.

“And, like,” Brett hastened to add, “Judaism is a lot different from Christianity. We’re expected to question our holy texts, at least, I was when I grew up. You know what they say, two Jews, three opinions.” He chuckled weakly. “You can’t compare the two.”

“You’re lucky,” Justin finally said. His voice was a little thick, broken. “I wish I could feel like that.”

“I…” Brett hesitated, unsure whether he should say it. Was this an inappropriate time to bring it up?”

“You…?” Justin prompted, when Brett left it hanging, unfinished.

“I want you to meet my family,” he said. “I’m… I’m not out to them yet. So, that first. But I want you to meet them. At least Darcey, if you can. I’m going to try to get him back for the weekend before they ship him out. You can meet each other then.”

“Really?” Justin’s voice was soft, almost _breathless_.

“Yeah. You’re so important to me, Justin. I want them to know you.”

The suddenness and ferocity of the kiss took Brett off guard, but when he wrapped his arms tight around Justin’s neck and Justin’s were firm over his back, for the first time since they came back from California, Brett truly felt safe. He hoped he could make Justin feel the same way.

For a while after that, they talked, but not _about_ anything. For those few brief hours, it was like things were back before Brett got sick in July, when things weren’t easy, but they weren’t as hard. It wasn’t until it started to get dark that Brett realized how long Justin had been over, and when his boyfriend glanced at his phone to check the time, he sighed and said, “I’ve got to get going. Nate’s out at ten and I really need to talk to him about this. I’m sorry. Will you be okay?”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m okay.” Brett kissed Justin’s cheek, just below his ear. “He’s been your friend since you were kids. I love you, Justin, and I want to help you, but I know he probably has a better grasp on the situation than I do. It’s okay.”

Justin smiled and curled his arm around Brett’s waist, pulling him close and holding him tightly. When he let go, Justin turned to kiss Brett, and when he pulled away he murmured, “Thanks for understanding.”

Brett pushed himself to his feet as Justin stood, following him to the door, where Justin pulled on his shoes. “Thank you, Brett,” he murmured. “For listening. Even though nothing is solved, I… I feel a lot better. Clearer. And I think I’m ready to handle it, now.”

“Call me if you need me, okay?” Brett said. “I don’t care what time. Even at 2:00 a.m. I don’t care. Call me.”

His phone beeped from over on his desk, but he’d get to it in a second. “And let me know as things change, okay?”

“Of course,” Justin said. Once he had his shoes on, he leaned down to kiss Brett again. Again. Quick, a little desperate, like he didn’t want to leave or let go. Brett felt exactly the same way. “Keep me updated on Darcey, okay?” he continued. “And let me know if you need anything. Don’t keep stuff in because you’re worried about me. I can take care of myself.”

Brett chuckled. Justin knew him so _well_. But he was so grateful for the offer because it meant he and his family weren’t alone. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you. Take care of yourself. Call me if you need anything.”

“Yeah.”

One last kiss, and Justin was gone.

After Brett locked the door behind him, he checked his phone. It was Darcey.

_You by your computer? Skype would be better._

Brett sat down at his desk, grabbing the mouse in one hand and texting with the other.

_Logging in. See you in a few._

Darcey wasn’t not on just yet. Maybe he was just getting home from somewhere. Brett was about to text him again when his cousin logged on and sent a call request. He accepted.

Darcey was just a shadow when the call connected, but he turned his lamp on as Brett said, “Hey, Darcey.”

“I can’t hear you, man,” Darcey said. Brett paused as Darcey plugged in and pulled on his headphones. “Turn up your mic?”

“Yeah, sorry.” He accidentally hit the pause/play button beside the volume control, but left it for a moment while he fixed his mic volume. Then he turned the music off so Darcey could hear him. It was hard enough to make out a call without hearing problems, but Darcey’s ears had been so damaged by gunfire, he wouldn’t be able to hear what Brett was saying with music in the background.

“So, I’m --”

“Yeah,” Brett interrupted. His voice caught and he tried to clear his throat as subtly as he could, but Darcey knew him. He would notice. “Dad told me. Your mom told him.”

“Okay.”

When Brett looked at Darcey, _really_ looked at him for the first time in months, he could see the wear on his cousin’s face, the dejection in his shoulders. If it weren’t for his face, Brett would think he looked good. He was still in top physical condition. But he had to be, in case of… this. Brett smiled a little when he saw Darcey was wearing the shirt he sent last December. The black one with all the Zelda icons. It was Darcey’s favorite game series while they were growing up.

But that was so _long_ ago. So much had changed since they were kids.

“You’re wearing the shirt I sent you,” Brett said, because he knew they had to talk, but he didn’t know how and needed to stall. “Does it fit okay?”

“Yeah.” At least now, Darcey was smiling.

“Good. I was a little worried because your shoulders are so big.”

“Well, _excuse_ me, princess.”

Brett laughed brightly and Darcey chuckled and for a moment, everything was okay. Everything was just like it used to be.

Almost. It wouldn’t be exactly the same until they were sitting next to each other again.

Then Brett’s eye caught the corner of a CD case. Black with the smallest corner of red text. “Oh!” He rummaged under all the scholarship forms and reading lists and pulled it out. “Speaking of gifts, I was at a show with some friends a couple of months ago and there was a band there called Knives in the Attic I thought you’d like, so I picked up their demo. It only has five songs, but it’s pretty good.”

He was about to apologize for letting it sit around for so long because he should have sent it out when he got it, but before he could, Darcey laughed and said, “How many assholes did you have there yelling ‘Freebird’?”

Brett laughed and shook his head. “I don’t know how things are done in the South, Darcey, but if someone here tried that at a punk show they’d get the _crap_ kicked out of them.”

Darcey half-grinned and Brett smiled back. That was all he wanted right now. He just wanted Darcey to smile. He wanted Darcey to be okay.

For a while, they made small talk about music while Brett ripped the CD so he could zip it and send it over via messaging, because now he didn’t know if Darcey would get it in the mail in before they took him away again.

It wasn’t _right_. They took him away for so long. Eight years, almost nine, and he was supposed to come _home_ but now they were pulling him away again. Brett couldn’t believe they’d stop-lossed him. Darcey had done so much for so many people while he’d been in the Army. He’d served his time. He should have been coming _home_.

Suddenly, Darcey said softly, seriously, “Are you eating okay?

Brett looked away from the window he was working in, hoping his fear didn’t show on his face. Hoping that, for some reason, this time Darcey couldn’t read him, even though he’d always been able to before.

“Yeah,” he said, too quickly. The barest of frowns tugged at Darcey’s mouth. Brett slowed down. “I've just had a lot going on. School's crazy and some really bad shit just went down with my boyfriend's family so --”

“Your what?”

Brett froze. He hadn’t even been thinking. This was Darcey, he was safe, so Brett’s filter had shut down. He couldn’t read his cousin’s expression because he’d always been difficult, always pulled that infuriating poker face in any situation he was even remotely unsure about. For a long time, they looked silently at each other. But Brett couldn’t unsay what had been said. He had to keep going and pray the lack of reaction was a good thing. He opened his mouth to explain, but Darcey spoke first.

“I mean.” He paused and licked his lips, like he wasn’t sure whatever he was thinking was okay to say, and it was _terrifying_. “I just mean, you had a girlfriend in high school, didn’t you? You guys were together for almost three years.”

Brett swallowed. His eyes were locked on Darcey’s and he wasn’t sure he could look away. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. “Yeah.” When Darcey’s eyebrows drew together, Brett realized he was speaking too softly. Darcey couldn’t hear him and Brett couldn’t repeat it. “I’m, uh, I’m bisexual.”

It was the first time since May he’d said it aloud.

“Oh,” Darcey said. He fell silent.

Oh? Oh what? Oh, okay, I still love you? Oh, what the hell is wrong with you? Oh, that’s disgusting? Oh _what_?

“Well.” Darcey paused, stumbled, started again. “While, uh, while we’re having this conversation, I am, too, actually. Well. Not bi. Gay. I… I _think_.” As he spoke, Brett’s eyes darted over Darcey’s face. _Is he screwing with me?_ He wouldn’t. Not about something like this.

“I mean,” Darcey continued, “I’m pretty much sure. But I haven’t really had anyone to talk to to figure things out for _sure_ sure.”

_Oh, God, he’s serious. I’m not alone._ Brett could have laughed, he was so happy, but he didn’t want Darcey to think he was mocking him. Why would he? But still.

“Well,” Brett said, “if you know, you know. It doesn’t really matter what your experiences are.”

“Yeah.” It came out in a thick, heavy breath. “And, you know, it is the Army. I don’t really know how most of the guys feel about that kind of thing, but there are a few pretty vocal homophobes and only Doc ever says anything about it.”

“He’s a good man,” Brett said. “But then there’s Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, yeah?”

“Yeah. So the only thing that matters is what my superiors think.”

“And?”

“They’re not okay.”

Brett’s eyes darted over Darcey’s face. He’d never wanted to touch someone as badly as he did just then, to reassure himself that his cousin was okay. Darcey was right in front of him but hundreds of miles away, and it was so _isolating_. He couldn’t imagine how Darcey must feel. Brett was pretty sure he was the first person his cousin had come out to. That thought simultaneously honored him and made him deeply, deeply sad.

“I really wish you were here right now.”

“Me, too.”

Brett thought he could hear the barest hint of tears in the back of Darcey’s throat, but it was so hard for his cousin to express emotion, so Brett didn’t say anything. Just in case Darcey locked back up again.

For a while, they talked about Baghdad, where Darcey would be stationed. They talked about the war, but not in any specific detail. Brett tried to talk to him about his nightmares, but Darcey kept insistently changing the subject. The whole time, an idea that might have been stupid or insane or both kept tumbling around in Brett’s head, and after a little dancing around, he asked,

“Okay, so, Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, right? What if… what if you tell?”

Darcey’s body language changed. Suddenly his shoulders were tense, his face was tight, and the tension in his arms meant his hands were clenched tight on the desk. “It’ll be a dishonorable discharge, Brett. I get nothing.” The anger and the resignation in his voice said what he didn’t: he’d been thinking about this for a long time. _I’m an asshole for even bringing it up_.

Darcey continued, his voice strained. “No heath insurance, no pension, no retirement, no GI Bill. Nothing. They kick me out on the street without even a bus ticket. All of….” He waved his hands a little frantically, almost scared, “this, for nothing. Gone.”

“Okay,” Brett murmured. “It was just a thought. I don’t know how this stuff works.”

They were both quiet for a while.

“It’s ‘just a thought’ I’ve been having for a long time. But it’s a stupid one.”

“Sorry.”

Darcey’s face softened and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Brett. I obviously have a lot of shit built up right now. I’m sorry. It was a legitimate question.”

“Can you come back for a few days?” Brett suddenly asked. Darcey’s face changed in a way Brett couldn’t quite place. “You can see your mom and dad. Your sisters. I don’t know if we can get my dad over because he lives so far away, but I’m sure he’ll try. Do you have enough money for a ticket? My place is small, but it’s yours if you want it.”

For the first time in an hour, Darcey smiled.

“I’ll make it happen. Give me some time to figure out a plane ticket and I’ll let you know when I’m coming in.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the update is so late in the day, everyone! But here it is, finally. :p

Even before Justin had a chance to say hello, the first thing Nate did upon walking in the door was pull him into a hug. It took Justin off-guard, even though it shouldn’t have, but when he wrapped his arms back around his friend, suddenly he was so tired, so weak, and all the weight on his back was too much and he’d probably collapse if Nate weren’t holding him up.

“Hey,” he whispered.

Nate patted Justin’s back once. He squeezed a little tighter, then pulled away. _How are you doing?_ he asked.

“I…” Justin paused and pushed away, trying not to let Nate see him rubbing at his face, even though it was obvious. “A little better? I talked to Brett for a really long time, and even though everything is still the same, I’m not as freaked out about it anymore.”

 _But?_ Nate raised an eyebrow and Justin bit the corner of his lip. It wasn’t fair that anyone could read him so well.

“But I’m still pretty fucking freaked out,” he admitted.

_Can we relocate to the kitchen? I want to talk to you but I really need to get some food, too._

“Yeah,” Justin said. “I’ll give you a hand.”

Nate didn’t push, not at first. For a while they stood in amiable quiet while Justin prepped vegetables and Nate grated some cheese. After the block was gone, Nate put down the grater and signed, _We need to talk about this. **You** need to talk about this. What’s going on?_

“Brett’s acting weird,” Justin blurted. Nate frowned.

 _What?_ It was clearly not what he was expecting Justin to say.

“He’s being weird,” Justin repeated. “Like, I feel like he's avoiding me. Almost any time I try to get together with him he has some kind of excuse. The first week he was sick, which is nobody's fault. Okay. I understand. He knows I can't afford to get sick and wants to keep me safe. The second week it was just excuse after excuse, I have a test to study for that's not until a month from now, I have to sort my mail, I have to take my fish for a walk. And, I mean, obviously I don't expect him to drop his life for me every time I want to hang out. He has shit to do. Sometimes I have to turn him down. I get it. But… every single time I call? And… I mean, I don't…” He paused, hand tight around the knife handle, knuckles pressed hard into the counter. “It's just, a lot of them seem really flimsy. I don't want to think he's lying, but ...I keep thinking it anyway. Today was the first time I've seen him in a week, and I'm pretty sure it's just because we're both having a fucking crisis. But what if I wasn't? What if I just had a shitty day at work and wanted to see him? Would he turn me down then, too? Why?”

Justin let go of the knife and pressed his knuckles into his eyes. He breathed deep for a moment. “I just…” He hated the way his voice wavered, the way his _trust_ wavered. He _loved_ Brett so, so much, and part of that was trusting him, right? “I keep thinking, what if it’s like last time? What if he’s --”

 _No_. The sign was firm and sharp, but Justin was grateful because it was what he needed. _Brett, cheating on you? No way. He doesn’t have it in him._ _I don't think he could even if he wanted to. He's too nice. Justin, you guys were friends for a really long time before you started dating, and that history didn't disappear just because you kiss each other sometimes, now._

Justin chuckled softly, a little brokenly, but he nodded. Nate was right. Justin knew that. But he also needed to hear it out loud from someone else.

“Yeah,” he said softly, but hearing it in his own voice helped affirm it. “You’re right. Thanks, Nate. He probably just…” He paused, eyes darting over the wall, as if the answer was there somewhere. “He’s really stressed out. And school just started again. He… he probably just needs some time to get himself back together after being so sick for so long.”

 _I’m sure it’s just something like that_ , Nate signed. He gently nudged Justin’s shoulder and Justin laughed softly. _I mean, he’s crazy about you. I’m sure he’d be spending more time with you if he could. Just give him another week or two to settle into school. It’ll be okay._

Justin nodded and said firmly, “Yeah.” Nate was right. Nate was always right. That was why Justin went to him for advice.

Nate nudged him again and Justin looked up. Nate’s eyes were soft, concerned. _So, what happened with your family?_ he asked.

Justin shook his head and threw up his hand, about to dismiss it, but Nate caught his wrist and signed with his other hand, _Justin, you need to talk about this. Please. Let me try to help_.

His fingers were loose and they loosened even more when Justin’s curled into a fist and his wrist tensed. But Nate didn’t let go.

 _Justin._ The sign was sharp, but his face was gentle. He clearly wasn’t about to take any bullshit. But Nate was only being pushy because Justin needed him to be.

“Can we sit down, then?” Justin asked. “I’ve been going since 4:00 a.m. and I’ve done a lot of yelling and stressing and even a little bit of crying today and I’m fucking exhausted.”

Nate nodded. _Food can wait a few minutes_.

They moved over into the connected dining room and sat down opposite each other. Justin’s hands were curled tightly in on themselves, his arms crossed over his chest defensively, and he didn’t even look at Nate, his eyes instead trained on the cutting board he left on the counter.

Nate snapped his fingers twice in front of Justin’s nose. Justin finally turned to look at his friend.

 _Talk to me_ , he signed.

For a long time, they sat in silence. Nate didn’t push. Then, suddenly, it all spilled out in one long string of excuses and apologies, even though Justin had done nothing wrong, even though Nate wouldn’t blame him for anything. He’d been apologizing for so long, even just internally, because it had always been his fault. Everything was his fault. It was his fault Susan and Paul’s marriage was suffering, It was his fault Paul had done… whatever he’d done. That he’d gone back to that Church. It was his fault things were so bad there, because he _knew_ they remembered him. It was probably his fault they were homophobic. Every other problem in his family was probably his fault, too.

Justin was yelling, now, not at Nate, but at himself, at God, at his parents, half incoherent, stumbling over his words. “And I don’t know why he would go back. They fucked him over just as badly. They kicked us _all_ out, not just me. So why couldn’t he find some different stupid fucking Church? Why this one? Why did he have to go somewhere where they know me, where they hate me, where they’re probably saying fucked up stuff about me?” He couldn’t _breathe_ , he was shaking, he was _choking_. He slammed his hand down on the table so hard it _burned_ , and when he jerked his hand to his chest, as if it were any safer there, Nate finally started to sign.

_I’m sorry, Justin._

Justin opened his mouth, but Nate held up a finger, asking him to wait. Justin did.

_This whole situation sucks and I wish there was something I could do. And I’m sorry that I can’t fix it. But any time you need to rant or yell or anything, I’m here, okay? At least I can give you that, if nothing else._

Justin’s crossed his arms in front of himself again, but loose. Every muscle in his body had been coiled so tight for so long, and the tension was finally starting to ooze out, not because anything was better, but because he was finally coming to terms with the fact that there was nothing he could do to change it.

“Thanks,” he whispered. He curled his fingers into a fist and rested it in front of his mouth. “Really. Thank you.”

Nate nodded. For another moment, they just sat.

“I hope your life has been going better than mine?” Justin finally asked.

Nate smiled, big and bright. Justin raised an eyebrow.

_So, you know that woman I told you about?_

Justin watched his friend quizzically for a moment before he finally had to shake his head. “I’m an asshole. I’m sorry.”

Nate rolled his eyes and waved the apology away. _Don’t worry about it. You’ve had a lot going on._

“So, did you meet someone?” Justin asked.

 _I think so?_ Nate leaned forward into the sign. _I met her my first day back at class. She’s new at the school and in the area. Moved here with her best friend after graduating high school earlier this year._

“Okay. And?”

 _And she is really, **really** fucking smart, Justin. And she’s eloquent. She’s insightful. Thoughtful. She’s everything I’ve been looking for in the past year and didn’t find, all in one person. I don’t… _ He hesitated a moment before continuing. _I’m still feeling things out. I’m not sure if she’d be interested in dating me? But I would love it if she were._

Justin finally smiled, just a little.

_I mean, if she’s not, then, that sucks, but oh well? Because she’s just a really cool person. I think you would like her. I was actually planning on bringing her by your work tomorrow because she’s looking for some good coffeehouses. Would that be okay? I know it usually doesn’t bother you but with everything going on, I don’t want --_

“Yeah, bring her by,” Justin interrupted. His shoulders were a little less tense. The genuineness slowly came back to his smile. He didn’t like to say so aloud because there was no nice way to say it, but all of Nate’s girlfriends up to that point had been horrible, either stupid or mean or both. His track record was just as bad as Justin’s. Maybe this woman would turn it around, like Brett had for him.

“What’s her name?” he asked.

_Butterfly._

Justin raised an eyebrow. “Were her parents hippies or something?

Nate laughed. _No, she let me give it to her as a name sign. She goes by Iffy, usually. But she’s pretty and graceful like a butterfly so I thought it would be nice and she agreed to humor me._

Justin chuckled. “Well, it is nice. Yeah, bring her by tomorrow, during a slow patch if you can?”

Nate nodded. _Of course_.

He glanced back at the unattended vegetables in the kitchen again and Justin said, “I’m sorry, I know you need to eat. Go ahead. I’ve got to get in touch with my sister and let her know what’s going on.”

 _All right_. They pushed out their chairs and stood. Nate squeezed Justin’s shoulder as he walked by and signed, _I’m just in the next room over if you need me, okay?_

“Yeah.”

Justin could call Nora, and he would, soon, but he wanted to try getting in touch with her over IM first. Just in case he started to cry. She’d seen him at his best and at his worst, but he didn’t want anyone to see that. He was ashamed that Brett had even heard him on the phone earlier. He hated feeling that way and wished he _could_ cry in front of people, but sometimes he could barely cry by himself.

When he woke up his computer and logged on, he held his breath as his contacts list loaded. It came out in a heavy whoosh when Nora’s screenname appeared.

 

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Nora I have really bad fucking news.

 

It took a moment that stretched into hours, but she replied.

 

 **AreYouThereGod** : What? Justin what’s wrong? Are you okay?

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Paul’s gone back to the Church.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : The really terrible one that kicked us out.

 **AreYouThereGod** : Oh my God.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : That’s what Susan was hiding. She’s getting better but we didn’t realize it because we never sat down and talked about it. But Paul’s gotten worse.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Susan said he’s been saying some really fucked up things about me. She didn’t say what, specifically. Just that he’d do something really bad if I ever brought home another guy.

 **AreYouThereGod** : Oh my God. Fuck.

 **AreYouThereGod** : Fuck!

 **AreYouThereGod** : Are you okay? Does he know about Brett?

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Susan does. I don’t know if she’s said anything. She doesn’t know his name.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : They don’t know about you. Don’t worry. Susan’s still calling you by your old name and male pronouns.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Which, good or bad, I don’t know. But at least that means you’re safe.

 **AreYouThereGod** : Well. I think for now I’m just going to go with that being a good thing.

 **AreYouThereGod** : Are you going to be safe? Do you think Dad will try to do anything crazy?

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : I don’t know? I mean, he was always pretty angry when we were younger but he was never violent. I don’t… I can’t see why that would change?

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : I mean, he never hit us or anything.

 **AreYouThereGod** : He threatened you though. He kept saying things like he’d beat the devil out of you.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Yeah, but. He never actually DID. I know that doesn’t make saying shit like that okay, but…

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Nora, you’re scaring me. Do YOU think he’d try to do something?

 **AreYouThereGod** : I wouldn’t know. I’m sorry.

 **AreYouThereGod** : I just love you so much, Justin. You’re basically my only family and you’re so important to me.

 **AreYouThereGod** : Or, well, you will be when I start coming out.

 **AreYouThereGod** : I just want to be sure you’re safe.

 **AreYouThereGod** : Please be safe, Justin. Please be careful. Okay?

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Okay.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : But I think you’re overreacting. He might say really shitty things but I don’t think he’s stupid enough to get violent. I mean, now I’m big enough to hit back if I have to, and if it comes down to that, I will. And if he knows anything about me, he’ll know that. But, I mean, Paul’s an asshole, but he’s not dumb.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : And I don’t know if I’d call the cops, because, you know, I’m gay so clearly I started it, but he has to know Susan will get them involved if she thinks she has to. Even when things were at their worst, she was always really against violence.

 **AreYouThereGod** : I know.

 **AreYouThereGod** : I just… after finally starting my transition and coming out I started dealing with the homophobia firsthand, and the transphobia, and I just… I mean, I know I saw what happened to you when we were growing up, but then having to go through it myself just made me realize how bad it can get and how damaging it can be. And Arizona is so much more conservative than California.

 

And that was it. That was what broke him. For a moment, he couldn’t type anything, because his face was buried in his hands, elbows propped on the desk as he breathed in, slow and shaky. When he let it out, it was a half-sob, half-laugh, and he didn’t know why he was laughing because the whole situation was so screwed up, but it was like something in the back of his head was broken and he didn’t remember how to cry anymore, but he had to do _something_. So he laughed a broken, helpless, desperate laugh. He rubbed at his nose a little and opened his eyes when the window dinged. The words were a little blurry, but he wasn’t crying. Maybe.

 

 **AreYouThereGod** : I’m sorry. I know I worry too much. I don’t mean to be overbearing.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : It’s okay.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : I’m grateful, actually. It shows how much you care.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : I’m sorry to cut this short, but I really need to go to bed. I’m fucking exhausted and I have to be up at 4:00 tomorrow morning for work.

 **AreYouThereGod** : Okay. Go get some sleep.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : We’ll talk more tomorrow and see if we can figure out a plan of action. If that would even help.

 **AreYouThereGod** : Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

 **AreYouThereGod** : Sleep well.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Goodnight.

 

Justin logged off, shut his room down, and the moment he hit his bed, his body turned off.

He slept.


	22. Chapter 22

Brett hadn’t hurt so badly in years. He was exhausted and his bones ached and he couldn’t think clearly and all he wanted to do was go back home and sleep. For once, he was grateful that he didn’t work until the next day. At least after all his classes were over he could go home, sleep, and not move again until tomorrow.

But he was down another five pounds since he last checked himself at the school gym. He was careful not to let anyone he knew see him there, even though nobody here had known him in high school so they wouldn’t know his history. He was halfway to his goal. Another twenty and he could stop. All he’d have to do at that point was maintain.

Two hundred calories a day had been working, but it was still going too slow, so last night he cut it in half. He drank a lot of cold tea and black coffee. He preferred it with sugar, but sugar cut into his calorie allowance, and sweets in general were dangerous.

For every day he could keep it under fifty, he was going to reward himself somehow. He didn’t know how, yet. He was working on it. Give himself some encouragement for doing a good job.

His last class of the day was an intro to education course, because he felt he should have a backup, just in case. Being an acting instructor wasn’t his goal, but it would be better than working as a waiter, and at least he could still be involved with what he loved if he didn’t make it to the stage.

The time dragged. The seat was hard and pushed against his tailbone. His hips ached and even bending his fingers to keep hold of his pen hurt. His bones were like un-oiled hinges, creaking and dragging against each other, and the pain was so bad he could almost vomit. But he made it through class.

Before he went back to his car, he headed to the student union to get a bottle of water. Maybe it would help with the dizziness, the blurriness in his eyes. When he blinked he swore his eyes were only closed for half a second, but then he stumbled over something, no, someone, and when his eyes jerked back open, he looked down to see a young woman sitting on the ground, her eyes screwed closed and her knees drawn in.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry,” Brett mumbled. He helped her pick up her books as she pushed herself up. It was only when he stood that he realized how small she was, barely five foot, slender, with small hands and small feet and long, straight black hair and dark brown skin. She frowned at him. He was pretty sure she was going to tell him off, and he’d deserve it, but first he blurted out one more, “I’m really sorry. It was completely my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. Are you okay?”

She looked at him closely for a moment, and then, very suddenly, her face relaxed. Her brown eyes darted over his face, then she said, slowly, a little hesitantly, “Are _you_ okay?”

Brett started to say “Yes,” but before he could get the full syllable out, he wavered a little, his feet stumbling beneath him.

“I think…” She paused to take her books from him. “Do you need to sit down? I can walk you somewhere.”

“I was just on my way home from class,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the parking lot.

“Drive or bus?” she asked.

“Drive.”

“No,” she said. She shifted her books over to one arm and put her hand on his forearm. “You can’t even walk in a straight line. You’re definitely not okay to drive. Is there someone you can call? I’ll wait with you in the student union if you want.”

Brett’s eyebrows drew together and he opened his mouth to protest.

“I don’t have anywhere to be right now,” she said. “My next class isn’t for an hour. Come on. Come sit down with me.”

And then, for the first time all day, a small smile cracked across Brett’s face and he chuckled softly. “I didn’t know people like you existed,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I just mean there aren’t a lot of people who would take time out of their day to help some idiot who ran them down on the sidewalk.”

She laughed, big and bright. “I don’t know if I’d call you an idiot. Careless, maybe. But it’s not the same thing.”

His smile widened a little. “I’m Brett.”

“Iffy.” She nodded toward the student union. “Come on. Let’s see if we can find you a ride home.”

Iffy didn’t say much as they walked together, waiting for Brett to speak first. Maybe so she could gauge appropriate conversation topics? Brett wasn’t sure. She was obviously waiting for him to start, but he didn’t know what to start with. He could barely keep his thoughts straight, much less a conversation. So they were both quiet until they got to the student union and sat down across from each other at a small table.

“Is there someone you can call?” Iffy finally asked. Brett’s eyebrows drew together as he tried to think. Justin was still at work for another four hours. Cass didn’t have a car. He couldn’t call his dad or aunt because they’d ask why he was so sick, and that wasn’t a conversation he was willing to have. Ever. There was Nate, maybe. Brett didn’t know his schedule, but he knew his friend had class that day. Maybe he was even still on campus.

“Maybe,” he mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He fumbled with it a little. The way she looked at him made him nervous. Analyzing, sharp. Not judgmental, exactly. But like she knew she could figure out all his darkest secrets if she just looked in the right place for long enough. It was unnerving.

He turned his eyes down so he could send a text to Nate.

_Are you still on campus? I need a ride home._

Nate texted back almost immediately.

_I was just on my way out, but I haven’t left yet. You caught me just in time! Where are you?_

_I’m in the student union._ He was about to change his mind and delete the text and tell Nate he’d catch up with him another day, but somehow this woman he met less than ten minutes ago could read his mind and she gave him, then his phone, a pointed look. So he finished with, _I think I’m getting sick again. I just don’t feel safe to drive._

_Do you think it’s that crazy superflu thing you got last month?_

_I don’t know._ His fingers shook as he typed out the lie. _I’m just really dizzy and having a little trouble walking._

_Okay. I’ll come meet you. For now I’ve got two hours to kill until I meet someone, so you got me at the best point of the day! I’ll be there in a few minutes. Just relax and we’ll figure out what we’re going to do when I get there. I’ll get you home at some point, and back to school tomorrow._

“Thank you, Nate,” Brett murmured under his breath. He breathed out so heavily it nearly knocked him backwards. Suddenly Iffy’s expression changed, confused. Maybe nervous?

Brett put his phone down on the table and brushed his hair out of his face.

“Did…” Iffy’s voice was soft. “Did you just say Nate?”

“Yeah?” His reply was as unsure as her question. “He’s a friend of mine. He can’t speak so we have to text.”

Her eyes widened. “As in… Nate Paine?”

Brett raised an eyebrow. “You know him?”

A disbelieving smile crossed her face and she buried her face in her hand for a minute. “Yeah,” she said when she looked back up again. “We’ve… we’ve met.”

“I…” Brett trailed off, his eyes darting over her face as he tried to assess what that meant. Her face was a little nervous, but mostly amused, and there was no anger or fear, so… “Is that a bad thing?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, no,” she chuckled. “It’s just… we met on Monday and since then we keep running into each other. We planned to meet tomorrow, anyway, but everything in between has been an accident. It’s just weird and kind of funny. We’re meeting after class to go to a coffee shop where his friend works? My roommate and I are new in the area and we’re trying to figure out good places to go, and coffee is, like, my life force.”

“His friend Justin?” Brett asked. His smile was coming back, too, disbelieving, amused, because of all the people he could have accidentally bowled over on his way out of class, it ended up being someone he was connected to without even knowing it.

“Yeah!” she grinned. “My roommate’s vegetarian, so, you know, Nate being vegetarian too, it came up, and then he said Justin’s vegan. So they can help us navigate and find good places to go.”

“I’m a vegetarian too, actually,” Brett grinned. “My favorite place is Pita Jungle. Justin and I go there all the time. You should check it out.”

“Yeah? Okay, I’ll mention it to her tonight.”

“We went to this really nice little coffee shop yesterday, actually, called... The Tree House? Something like that,” Brett said. “But even though their menu was really small, they had a lot of vegetarian stuff. Even a few vegan things.”

Iffy grinned. “Nice! My roommate’s girlfriend is vegan, so she’ll be thrilled.” The second she said it, her mouth snapped shut. Her jaw tightened a little. She looked like suddenly she was prepared to either run away or hit him.

“Well, awesome,” was all he said. Then, even though it wasn’t entirely relevant, he tried to soothe the situation by saying, “They might like Green, then. It’s entirely vegan. Justin and I went there on our first date. They’re closed Mondays, though.”

Iffy’s face relaxed and her smile slowly edged back. Her fingers uncurled and her wrists relaxed.

“Yeah?” she said. “I’ll have to tell them about it. There’s nothing like that where we’re from.”

Brett smiled and laughed, very softly, a little breathlessly. Even though the coming out process never ended, maybe it got easier.

Then, suddenly, there was a heavy arm and a sharp elbow on his shoulder and he leaned back to look up. Nate grinned down at him, then grabbed the chair between him and Iffy. He signed something and Brett recognized the first part as _Hello_. The second part was probably a name sign.

Nate’s smile was the widest Brett had ever seen. He was usually a pretty cheerful person, but he was positively _beaming_ , like he’d never been happier in his life. He pulled out his tablet and typed something, showing it to Iffy. She rolled her eyes and pushed it away, but she was smiling. Brett raised an eyebrow and Nate showed him what he’d written.

_We just keep running into each other! It must be meant to be!_

Nate looked back at Iffy with a grin and she offered a noncommittal shrug.

Oh.

_Oh_.

Were they a thing? It was obvious that Nate, at least, was _really_ into her. Brett glanced at Nate, at Iffy, back at Nate again. Maybe he should go and give them some time. He was probably okay to drive.

He pulled his phone beneath the table, trying to be discreet about texting Nate.

_Do you want me to skip out and leave you two alone?_

Nate’s phone went off and he pulled it out to check. He typed something in, slid it back in his pocket, and a few moments later, Brett got back,

_Don’t even think about it. It’s fine. We’re going out together later. I want to be sure you get home okay._

For a few minutes, they made small talk, mostly about studies and jobs, but as the minutes passed, Brett’s body slowly got heavier. He crossed his arms over the table and buried his nose in the crook of his elbow. He knew they were still talking because he could hear Iffy’s voice, but he wasn’t sure what she was saying and Nate had stopped showing him his tablet.

He only realized his eyes had closed when he opened them again at the nudge on his ankle under the table. He sat up, looking blearily at Nate, but he was typing something on his tablet.

“That was me,” Iffy said. She looked over at Nate, then back at Brett again, and said, “You guys get going. Brett, it’s pretty clear you need some rest. So go. It’s okay. I can occupy myself until class starts.”

“Thanks for understanding, Iffy,” Brett murmured. He did his best to smile, even though the bare muscle movement was so painful.

“Of course.” She nodded.

And even though Brett was totally out of it and could barely focus his vision, his eye still caught the barest touch of her knuckles against Nate’s wrist as they stood.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Brett said.

“Yeah, probably,” Iffy grinned.

He and Nate walked back to Nate’s car in silence. Once he sat down in the passenger’s seat, he felt a little better and asked, “So, what was that all about?”

Nate’s hand paused on the keys in the ignition and he turned to Brett, his head tilted to the side in question.

Brett gave him a tired, knowing half-grin. “I saw that. As we were leaving. So are you guys a thing, or what?”

Nate pulled his tablet out of his messenger bag again and typed out, _Not exactly? I mean, we just met on Monday. But she’s really awesome. And I’d really like us to be. We’ve gone on two dates but we’re not… dating? It’s kind of complicated._

Brett handed the tablet back and asked, “Well, are you happy?”

Nate grinned, and it was answer enough.

Brett shifted and groaned. His smile faded. Each of his vertebrae pushed hard into the seat, even as he tried to sit lightly. Maybe pain was just going to be an every day part of his life from now on.

_Are you okay?_ Nate signed. Brett glanced over, then back out the windshield and sighed softly, but didn’t answer in words. A soft tapping, and then Nate put the tablet in front of his face again.

_You look really bad. You’ve lost a lot of weight. Do you need to go back to the doctor?_

“I don’t think there’s much they can do,” Brett said noncommittally.

Nate frowned, but didn’t push it. Brett fell quiet. As they drove, Nate kept glancing over at him, and his hands were a little too tense on the steering wheel.

When they pulled into the parking lot of Brett’s apartment complex, Nate took his tablet back to type, _We need to talk_.

Brett’s whole body was suddenly ice. He tried to keep his face calm.

“What’s up?” _Oh please God don’t let my voice be shaking._

_Don’t tell Justin we had this conversation, okay?_

Brett’s eyebrows drew together and his fingers loosened as Nate recovered his tablet. His voice was _definitely_ shaking when he said, “Okay?”

_I know you’ve had a lot going on recently._ _I know you’ve been really sick, and Justin told me about your cousin getting shipped out to Iraq. Money’s tight and your hours are getting cut and you just made a really huge change in your major. So you’re under a lot of stress._

There was more, but Brett paused to look up at Nate, eyes darting over his friend’s face. Where was he going with this? He needed to get out of this car, _now_. His eyes darted to the door handle.

Nate tapped the tablet and raised his eyebrows pointedly. Brett continued.

_But Justin is really upset with how you’ve been acting. He feels like you’re ignoring him. Like you don’t want to be around him. And it’s hurting him a lot._

Brett’s fingers loosened again. This was _not_ where he was expecting this conversation to go. This was worse.

“What?” he murmured, shaky, soft.

Nate deleted the text and tapped out something new.

_I know how much you care about him and I know you’d never hurt him on purpose. And Justin’s too afraid to confront you. He probably doesn’t even want me to talk to you about it. But I know how much you both love each other and I’m not going to stand by and let you fuck yourselves over because you’re not communicating properly. But you need to step it up, Brett. This is easily something you both can fix, but you’ve got to talk to him, you’ve got to apologize, and if he did something wrong you need to tell him what so he can fix it and you can both move on._

“He didn’t do _anything_ wrong,” Brett said emphatically.

_Well, that makes it even easier, then. But an apology isn’t enough. You have to back it up with action. Saying that you’re sorry and acting exactly the same way fixes nothing. I know you have a lot going on, Brett. I do. But I know how important your relationship is to both of you, and sometimes, during the rough spots, it’s not fun. It’s work. But you two have something really special and I’m not going to let either of you mess it up. Okay?_

Brett’s eyes darted over Nate’s face. For a moment, he was quiet, processing. Finally, he said, softly, “Okay. Thanks for talking to me about it. I’ll call him when I get upstairs. I know he’s still at work, but he might be on his break. If not, he can call me back. I’ll fix this. I love him. I’ll fix it.”

Nate finally smiled and nodded. He gently nudged Brett’s shoulder.

_I know. Go get some rest. We’ll hang out soon, okay? And I’ll be back in the morning to get you to school tomorrow._

Brett handed the tablet back and Nate slid it back into his messenger bag. “All right,” he said. “Thanks, Nate.”

Nate grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

Brett slung his backpack over his shoulder as he shut the car door behind him. He gave Nate a quick wave before he drove off, then dragged himself up to his apartment.

He couldn’t even make it to the bed. The farthest he could get was his desk chair, and then he had to take a break.

Justin’s phone number was burned into his memory now. Punching it in was just as fast as speed dial. His boyfriend didn’t answer, so Brett left a message.

“Hi, Justin. It’s Brett. I… I realize I’ve been kind of an asshole recently. I’m sorry. Every reason I have just sounds like a flimsy, stupid excuse, so all I’m going to say is I’m sorry, and I love you, and I want to fix this. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like any of this is your fault or like I didn’t want to be around you. It’s not, and I do, and I want you to call me back when you get out of work so we can really talk about this. I can’t see you tomorrow because I have work right after class, then I have to pick up Darcey, but I am free for the rest of the day if you’re able to come over later. I don’t feel well enough to go out, but we can stay in. Call me back. I love you, Justin. I love you. And I’m sorry.”

His voice was shaking by the time he hung up the phone, and he rested his elbow on his desk and leaned into his hand, curled tight over his mouth. He’d made a lot of terrible mistakes these past few weeks.

He prayed it wasn’t too late to fix them.


	23. Chapter 23

Justin’s insomnia was getting worse. It was stress-induced. It _had_ to be. When things were going well with Brett, Justin slept just fine, rock solid, the whole night through. But now with… whatever the hell the problem was, whatever it was he did, and Brett avoiding him even though he said he wasn’t, Justin was lucky to get two or three hours a night.

At least he was no longer in school. It was the best decision he could have made. Just working and spending time with Nate and Brett ( _trying to_ , his brain reminded him) was what he needed. Even with the stress of Brett’s illness and the fact that things were rocky, his head was so much more together than it was when he was trying to force himself through school.

However, the insomnia meant that making it through the day required slamming back cappuccinos in a steady stream, pretty much every half hour, but about two hours later it started getting _worse_ because the warm soymilk made him sleepy, so he switched to iced lattes. Thankfully he was with a good crew. Blue and Michiko and, an hour before he left, Sunny was coming in. Thankfully, no Cody. He wouldn’t be able to deal with her attitude today.

His phone vibrated in his back pocket but he left it to go to voicemail.

Justin was in the middle of a sip of his latte when the bell over the door rang. He quickly knocked back the rest of it and trashed the cup, and as Blue called out, “Hey, guys! How are you?”

Justin turned around to add his own greeting and a smile crossed his face. It was Nate, and, he assumed, the Butterfly person he’d been talking about.

They were in stark contrast to each other, physically: Nate was almost seven foot and Butterfly was barely five, if that. She was thin and angular with sharp elbows and wrists, much like Nate, but her skin was a little darker and she had long, straight hair and large brown eyes. When she laughed softly at something on Nate’s tablet, her teeth flashed, straight and bright white. Nate nudged her with the back of his wrist and she smiled and rolled her eyes, all good natured tolerance and kindness.

Blue reached out his hand and Nate half -slapped, half-shook it, and Justin grinned and gestured at the woman, asking, “And who is this?”

 _Butterfly,_ Nate signed.

“Iffy,” she replied simultaneously.

Justin looked over at her and said, “I’m Justin, this is Blue. Which do you prefer?”

She opened her mouth, then hesitated. Justin thought he could see… something flash across her face, but he wasn’t sure what. “Either is fine,” she finally answered.

“Butterfly, then? So we’re all using the same name?” he asked. “Or I can call you Iffy and we can just use Butterfly as a name sign.”

She paused thoughtfully. “I like the second one,” she finally said.

“Go ahead and order anything,” he said. Iffy furrowed her brow, and Justin pointed to Nate. “I’m translating.”

Iffy chuckled a little and said, “Oh! Okay. I’m sure that’s easier than the tablet thing we were doing yesterday, yeah?” She looked up at Nate and he nodded and gave her a thumbs up.

 _I’m pretty confident saying Justin makes the best coffee in the city, so really, anything’s good,_ Nate signed. Justin didn’t translate. Instead, he signed back,

_Do I really have to translate that?_

Nate nodded curtly. _Yes._

Justin sighed and rolled his eyes. He jerked his thumb in Nate’s direction and said, “He says I make the best coffee in the city, so anything’s good.”

Blue nudged him with his elbow and said, “No, he’s right. Your coffee is awesome, man. I’ve been to some good coffeehouses, but none do it as well as you do. Not even our other baristas.” He paused. “Please don’t tell them I said that.”

Justin laughed and shook his head, waving away both the compliment and his worry as he turned to give the espresso machine a quick wipe down while they decided what they wanted.

He turned back to look over his shoulder when Iffy hesitantly asked, “Can I…?”

Her hand was hovering over Blue’s forearm. He looked at Justin a little unsurely, then over at Nate, and she explained, “I’ve been thinking of getting some work done and your tattoos are really beautiful.” She paused and pulled her hand back, stuffing it in her pocket. “Sorry. That was probably weird.”

“A… little?” Blue said. But he was laughing. He stuck his arm out and leaned over the counter so he could comfortably get closer. “But that’s okay. My artist’s in Tucson, though, so I don’t know if that’s something you can do. But the travel is worth it. She’s phenomenal.”

Iffy’s mouth twisted in disappointment and she sighed. “Too far away. Oh well. I don’t have the money to get it done right now, anyway. I’m just looking around for good places to go.”

“Do you guys want me to get started on something for you while you talk, or…?” Justin wasn’t in a rush. There was no line. But he didn’t like standing around and he could definitely start cleaning things if Nate and Iffy weren’t ready. There was always something to clean somewhere.

“Oh, crap, I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out of Iffy’s mouth like she was afraid he’d be angry.

“No, it’s okay. I just thought I could get it out to you faster?” Justin said. “But if you don’t know yet, that’s fine, too. No rush.”

She gave him a small, but grateful smile, then looked back up to the board, rocking from her heels to her toes as her eyes darted back and forth across the board. Nate was also looking at the board, but Justin was pretty sure he knew what his friend wanted, because he almost always got the same thing.

After a few moments, Iffy ordered an iced raspberry-vanilla latte, five shots, with a little whipped cream in the bottom of the cup before he poured the espresso in. It was the most specific order he’d gotten in a long time, but it sounded awesome. Maybe he’d make a detour on his way home and see if Sprouts had any vegan whipped cream. Nate ordered an iced hazelnut coffee, like always.

Since they were going to stay a while, Justin put their drinks in plastic tumblers instead of disposable cups, and as he handed them over, Iffy took a sip of hers. She paused, then lit up with the biggest, brightest grin Justin had seen on anyone in a long time.

“Oh my God, that’s _perfect_ ,” she said. “Thank you.”

Justin grinned, nodded, and said, “Welcome. Glad it’s how you like it.”

He and Blue watched as Iffy and Nate sat down on the couch at the opposite end of the room, then Justin turned back to clean up his space when Blue said, “Hey, Justin?”

Justin looked over his shoulder. Blue was biting the corner of his lip.

“Yeah?”

“Is she, um, is she his girlfriend?” His words were hesitant, his eyebrows slightly drawn, a little hopeful but also a little nervous. Justin gave him an apologetic smile and a shrug. Blue’s shoulders dropped.

“Sorry,” Justin said. “I don’t even think they know what they are. But they’re definitely something. I’m pretty sure Nate’s going to ask her to make it official sometime soon.”

Blue glanced back over his shoulder at her again and sighed softly. She’s just… she’s just really, really beautiful,” he said. He turned back to Justin again and shrugged. “But I guess it is what it is.”

Justin shrugged again. “Sorry. I mean, if she turns him down, I’ll let you know? But I don’t think she will.”

Blue shook his head and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I wouldn’t… I mean, that’s weird. She came in as a customer. That’s like… I mean, that’s like sexual harassment, isn’t it?”

“Honestly, I don’t think that’s something you’ll have to worry about,” Justin said.

Blue sighed very softly, then shrugged again. “Oh well,” he said. But it was a little sad.

“Okay, am I allowed to give you my opinion on your dateability as a gay dude without freaking you out about it?”

Blue laughed, a full body laugh that shook his shoulders. “Yeah,” he finally wheezed out. “Shit, Justin. I’m sorry. I know you have legitimate reasons for asking. But the way you said it was just _hilarious_.”

Justin grinned back.

“But yeah, go ahead,” Blue said.

“All right,” Justin laughed. “But, Blue, you’re really, really attractive, and you’re also one of the nicest people I’ve ever worked with. And it’s not forced niceness. You’re genuinely a kind person. You seem pretty smart. You’re respectful. You’re funny. I mean, you’ve got a lot going for you, man.”

Blue’s smile was lopsided and his ears had gone a little pink, and it was adorable.

“You could easily snatch up almost any woman you wanted,” he continued. “But just remember that just because you _can_ do something doesn’t mean you _should_. You’re better off waiting until you find someone you really click with than forcing something just for the sake of having it. I speak from loads of experience here. Learn from my stupid mistakes.”

Blue laughed and nodded, pulling his hands out of his pockets and leaning back against the counter. “Thanks, Justin. Really.”

Justin nodded. “Welcome.”

Iffy and Nate stayed around the shop for at least two hours, occasionally buying another cup of coffee or a cookie or a scone, and Justin could tell with each transaction that Blue was getting more and more smitten with her, even though he was trying not to. But there was nothing he could do. Justin couldn’t even control his own feelings, much less anyone else’s. Shortly after Nate and Iffy left, Sunny walked in, huge headphones over his ears, his dark hair pushed down over his forehead by his black beanie, hands shoved in his pockets. He gave Justin and Blue a quick wave and a half-grin as he walked through the dining room and back through the swinging door.

As he walked into the back, Michiko poked her head out of the door behind the counter and said, “Hey, Justin?”

He looked up from wiping the counter. “Yeah?”

“You can go ahead and get going an hour early if you want. Now that Sunny’s here, we’ve got it covered, since it’s been so slow all day.”

“You sure?” he asked, even though he knew she wouldn’t be offering if she weren’t.

“Yeah, go ahead,” she said. “You’re here six days a week. Take an hour to yourself. Go get some rest. You look like you could use it. Don’t think I haven’t seen you drinking all that coffee.”

“Yeah, Justin,” Blue added. “Sometimes it’s like all you do is work. Take some time to yourself. Go hang out with your friends or something.”

Justin could tell by ‘something,’ Blue meant ‘boyfriend,’ but he was grateful he didn’t say it out loud. Sunny had never been rude or cruel about it, but when Justin was first outed, he was a little skittish, even though he seemed to be okay now.

Justin shot Blue a smile and headed to the back, thanking Michiko as he passed her. Sunny was on his way out of the break room as Justin entered, slipping his bracelets off and sticking them in his pockets.

“Hey, man,” Sunny said.

“Hey.”

The door swung shut and Justin pulled off his apron and hat and stuffed them in his locker. Since it had been so slow, they hadn’t had the chance to get dirty. He clocked out, and as he crossed the dining room back to the front door, Blue and Sunny gave him a grin and a weak-wristed salute. Justin laughed and responded in kind, calling back, “Have a good night, guys.”

“You too!” Blue called after him.

When Justin got to the parking lot, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to see who called earlier. It was Brett. He left a message. Justin dialed his mailbox as he let himself into his car. It connected as he sat down and shut the door behind him.

“Hi, Justin. It’s Brett.” His voice was soft, sad, a little shaky. Justin’s breath caught. Did something happen? “I… I realize I’ve been kind of an asshole recently. I’m sorry. Every reason I have just sounds like a flimsy, stupid excuse, so all I’m going to say is I’m sorry, and I love you, and I want to fix this. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like any of this is your fault or like I didn’t want to be around you. It’s not, and I do, and I want you to call me back when you get out of work so we can really talk about this. I can’t see you tomorrow because I have work right after class, then I have to pick up Darcey, but I am free for the rest of the day if you’re able to come over later. I don’t feel well enough to go out, but we can stay in. Call me back. I love you, Justin. I love you. And I’m sorry.”

As Justin listened to the message, his throat tightened, his eyes watered, and he curled his hand over his mouth, leaning into himself as the recording went on. Oh God. Oh God. _Thank you, God, thank you_. When the message ended, Justin actually laughed, soft and wet and relieved, because everything was going to be okay. He hadn’t screwed up, Brett wasn’t mad at him, Brett didn’t hate him. He still loved him and wanted to be with him and make this work.

Together, they could fix this.

Justin called Brett back, the phone number programmed into the muscles of his thumb. His teeth scraped against his knuckle as he waited for Brett to answer, and when he did, Justin pulled his hand away from his mouth and put it on the steering wheel, even though his keys weren’t even in the ignition yet.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Brett.”

“Hey.” The relief in his voice was as strong as Justin’s. “Can you come over tonight?”

“I can even come over now,” Justin offered. Maybe before he’d worry about sounding needy, but now it didn’t matter. They needed to have this talk and they needed to have it as soon as possible.

“I’d like that.” Brett’s voice was tired, but Justin could hear him smiling. “You got my message?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you know I’m not really up to going out?” His voice was soft, a little nervous.

“Yeah,” Justin said. “I understand. I know you never fully got over that crazy superflu thing. Are you doing okay?”

“I guess,” Brett said. “I’m just really tired and hard surfaces really, really hurt.” He chuckled a little, light, dismissive.

“Well, we can stay in. That’s fine. Do you want me to pick anything up for you?”

Brett was quiet a moment.

“What about some green tea? I really like the kind with rice, but whatever they have wherever you go is okay.”

“Yeah,” Justin said. His hand went for his keys but curled in on an empty seat. He turned, sighing and leaning over to dig them out from underneath. “Do you want some soup or anything? Easy frozen food? There’s a Sprouts not too far away and I was planning on stopping there anyway.” His finger curled around the key ring and he sighed. He pulled them into his hand and sat back up.

Brett paused again. When he finally spoke, it was a little slow, a little hesitant. But he was probably just worried about Justin spending money on him. “If they have strawberries, could you pick some up? And one or two apricots if they have them. I don’t think I can manage anything much heavier than that.”

Justin stilled, his hand still over the keys he’d just slid into the ignition. “Do you need me to take you to the doctor?”

“No,” Brett said, maybe a little too quickly, but Justin didn’t push. He didn’t know what she said the last time. Maybe it was just something he had to wait out, which would make going to the doctor a waste of time and money, anyway.

“Okay. If that changes, let me know, all right?” Justin said. “I want to be sure you’re all right. I love you, Brett. I know we’re both under a lot of stress but you’ve --”

“Got to take care of myself,” Brett finished. He laughed softly. “Yeah. Darcey gave me the lecture earlier.”

“All right.” Even though he was worried, Justin still smiled, because Brett was laughing and that meant everything was going to be okay. “I’m on my way. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Love you.”

Already, Justin’s shoulders were a little looser and his back was a little lighter.

The drive was relatively quick because he’d just missed rush hour, even with the stop at Sprouts. When he got to the apartment complex, he grabbed the two bags from the store and locked the door behind him. Unfortunately he was on the wrong end of the parking lot, so it took him a little longer than usual to get to Brett’s door. But when he did, he’d barely knocked once when Brett flung the door open and grabbed him in a hug, burying his face in his chest. Justin hugged back with one arm, since he still had the two bags in his other hand, and kissed the top of Brett’s head and said, “It’s okay. I’m here. We’ll work this out, okay?”

Brett’s fingers tightened on Justin’s shirt. He didn’t let go. Justin wormed his way through the doorway and closed the door behind him, even as Brett kept his arms curled tightly around his back. Finally, he kissed Justin’s chest, stood on his toes to press a tight kiss to his boyfriend’s mouth, and when he took a step back to give Justin some space, he murmured, “I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole recently. I feel like everything I can tell you is just a stupid excuse. But… please, can I try to explain?”

“Of course,” Justin answered. He pressed a kiss just below Brett’s ear and said, “Just let me get your food in the fridge. I got something for myself, too, because I didn’t get lunch.”

“Do you --”

“We’ll talk first,” Justin interrupted.

Brett followed him to the tiny kitchenette, leaning against the doorway as Justin put the food away. He balled up the plastic bags and stuck them in the one hanging on the hook under the sink, then left the room. He led Brett back to the bed. They both sat down on the edge, turned toward each other, knees touching.

“Can I start?” Brett asked hesitantly.

“Yeah.” Justin offered his hand, palm up on his knee. Brett took it. His fingers were so _thin_ , Justin could feel the movement of each joint as their hands squeezed around each other.

“Okay, so…” Brett paused, swallowed, then looked up at Justin from the floor. “So, I’ve been an asshole recently.”

Justin opened his mouth but Brett held up his other hand. His eyebrows were drawn. “Just… just let me talk first, please?”

Justin nodded. Brett dropped his hand to his knee, curling in on the denim of his jeans.

“I have. I’ve been a huge jerk. And I haven’t been talking to you about it, and I guess because of that I made you feel like you did something wrong. Which you didn’t. I meant what I said yesterday. You haven’t done anything wrong and you didn’t push me into anything and I don’t regret anything we’ve done together. I feel like I need to say that to start.”

Justin nodded. Brett’s eyes were still on his, occasionally darting to his ear, down to his neck, but always settling back on his eyes. Brett’s were a little hooded, circled in dark black and blue, sad, but determined, their soft hazel staring right into Justin as he talked. Justin swallowed.

“I’ve been under a lot of stress recently,” Brett continued. “After I missed those two weeks of work, they cut my hours by over half. I guess they’re punishing me because I got sick? I don’t know.” He shook his head and shrugged one shoulder as he bit the inside of his lip. “But I’m down to two to three shifts a week. So I’m really freaking out about how I’m going to pay my bills for September. I’ve been trying to find work somewhere else but…” He chuckled, almost a little darkly, and shook his head again, gesturing at himself. “I mean, I’m a fucking mess right now,” he continues. “I don’t really look like I have much to give a prospective employer. And then, well, you know about what’s going on with Darcey.”

“Yeah,” Justin said. But he didn’t continue. He let Brett talk until his boyfriend was ready for him to speak.

“And…” Brett paused, leaned closer and rested his forehead against Justin’s shoulder. He curled his free hand around his boyfriend’s arm. Justin rested his on Brett’s side. “And it’s a lot,” he continued. “It’s a lot to deal with. And I tend to curl in on myself and cut everything else off when I get overwhelmed so I can have some time to figure myself out and decide what I need to do. I wasn’t trying to ignore you, Justin. I wasn’t trying to push you away. And I’m sorry that that’s what I ended up doing. I love you. I’ll try to be better about it. I’ll try to talk to you. But habits like that are really hard to break, you know?” His fingers curled tighter on Justin’s arm. Justin’s nose was warm in the crook of his neck. “Just please be patient while I figure it out. And if I’m ignoring you or being a jerk, call me on it. The second it happens. I love you and if I’m not treating you right I want to know so I can fix it right away.”

For a long moment, Justin stayed quiet, waiting to see if Brett had anything else to say. When he didn’t, Justin ran his hand from Brett’s side, up his arm, to the back of his neck to curl in his hair, and he murmured, “Thank you.”

Brett pulled back, just enough to look into Justin’s eyes. “What?” he asked. “I… why?”

Justin chuckled a little, shook his head, and pressed a kiss to the corner of Brett’s mouth. “For reaching out and talking to me about it, I guess. Thank you.”

“Well, yeah,” Brett said. “I was the one being a jerk here, Justin. I was in the wrong. I just wanted --”

“I know.” Justin kissed him. He didn’t care that Brett was sick, that he might catch something. Brett’s mouth on his was so perfect, like puzzle pieces that fit only each other, and Justin needed this, needed to be reminded of when things were perfect so he knew they could be again. Brett melted against him, curling his hands in his boyfriend’s hair, pressing their chests together, and then Justin was on his back and Brett lying solidly against him, chest to chest and feet and legs tangled.

Brett’s breath was heavy against Justin’s mouth, and Justin pulled away, just enough to ask, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Brett whispered. But he was breathing like he’d just sprinted a mile. “I… I get tired easily. That’s all.”

“We can stop if --”

“No,” Brett interrupted. His voice was strained and it cracked, like it was the most important thing he’d ever said. “No,” he repeated, a little softer, more controlled. “I need this, Justin,” he whispered. “I think we both do. It’s been too long since we’ve just been able to be close to each other like this.”

“Me, too,” Justin murmured.

Brett kissed him again.

Justin slid his hands up Brett’s back, warm skin and sharp bone. When they reached his shoulder blades, for the first time, Justin realized how much _weight_ Brett had lost those past few weeks. When his fingers trailed down Brett’s sides he could feel the individual curve of each of his ribs. It scared him, and he pulled Brett closer, because he needed his boyfriend but also needed him to be well. He wished he could fix it.

Whatever ‘it’ was.


	24. Chapter 24

_My job sucks and it’s not even enough to pay my bills anymore._

Brett was down to the last two hours of his shift, which at night meant no more Cass, because apparently the labor laws specified that minors could only work certain hours. Customer traffic always slowed down this time of night, because it was too late for dinner but too early for drunk people looking for greasy food. Every now and then somebody came in for something to drink, but Brett didn’t sell any food. Occasionally, Reggie burst into song back in the kitchen, just a line or two from some pop song or another. Brett didn’t recognize any of them, but it still made him smile.

The door opened for the first time in a half hour and Brett looked up, about to go into his required spiel, but then he saw Iffy and his smile widened, real, now.

“Iffy! Hi!”

Iffy looked up from her phone, eyes wide, and when she saw him a grin of her own spread across her face.

“Brett! I didn’t know you work here!”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “For about two years, now.” As she got closer, he glanced over his shoulder and dropped his voice. “Hopefully not much longer.”

“Yeah?” she whispered back.

Brett shrugged. At work was not a good place to elaborate about leaving work. Iffy nodded knowingly. There was a small, awkward pause, then she looked up at the menu.

“So… what’s good?” she asked.

Brett shrugged and shook his head. “I’ve been a vegetarian the entire time I’ve been here, and even if I weren’t I keep Kosher. I have no idea. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm,” she said. “Well… what have other people said they like?”

Brett turned to look up at the menu with her, even though he had it memorized. “Cass really likes the machaca, and I guess she’d know what’s up, since she’s one of the cooks.”

“Let’s get it in a burrito, then,” she said. “Can I get black beans instead of pinto beans?”

“Sure.” Brett rang it in. His fingers hovered over the register as he asked, “Do you want anything to drink?”

Iffy’s eyes bounced over the board and she frowned softly. “Do you have horchata?” she asked.

“I wish we did,” Brett laughed.

“Damn. Well, okay. Nothing to drink, then. I’m good. Oh, to go, please.”

“All right. $5.47?”

She opened her wallet and shuffled some things around, then handed him her credit card. He swiped and handed it back.

“You don’t have to sign anything,” he said. “You can sit if you want. It’s slow. I can bring it out.”

Iffy smiled. “Thanks, but that’s okay. I’ll hang out here. I have to catch the bus soon, so --”

A bus went past the window behind her. Brett pointed over her shoulder and said, “Hopefully not that one?”

She paled and slowly turned around. “Going east?” she asked softly.

“Uh, to the right?”

“ _Shit_ ,” she whispered. She turned back around, digging her phone out of her purse. “Shit. _Fuck._ ”

“Are you okay?” Brett asked.

“That was the last bus. It was here early! Shit. That’s not okay! Brett, it was like,” she pulled out her phone and checked the time, “ten minutes early! I would have been able to make it!” She groaned and pushed her hair behind her ear. “Ugh. Renee’s going to be pissed.”

“Who?” Brett asked. Her food came up and he moved it from the window to the counter.

“My roommate,” she said. “I’m going to have to ask her to pick me up. Maybe I can bribe her with food.” She looked up at Brett hopefully. “Do you have _anything_ that’s vegetarian?”

He shrugged helplessly and shook his head. “Not really. Everything has chicken stock or bacon or something in it, even the rice and beans.”

“Well… shit,” Iffy sighed. “That sucks.”

“If…” Brett paused, unsure if he should continue. Then he decided, if she and Nate were friends, especially friends who were potentially dating, he should probably get to know her, anyway. So he asked, “If you don’t mind hanging out here until my shift ends at 11:00, I can give you a ride?”

She checked her phone again.

“I know you’ll be waiting around a while, but…” He trailed off and shrugged again.

“About a half hour,” Iffy murmured to herself. She sighed heavily, then shrugged and threw her hands up. “Well, what can you do, right?” She looked back at Brett and smiled. “Thanks, Brett. I appreciate it. I don’t live super close, though. I’m about a twenty minute drive from here. Is that still okay?”

“I’m in the same direction,” Brett said. “I mean, assuming you live in the direction the bus was going?”

“Mostly!” She grinned.

“Then it’s no problem. Go ahead, sit down, eat. Take your time.”

She grabbed the bag on the counter and smiled again, “Thanks,” she repeated. “Really.”

“Well, it’s the least I could do after what you did last week.”

Iffy paused. Her eyes darted over Brett’s face, his shoulders. “How _are_ you?” she asked. “You look like you have a little more energy?”

“Well,” Brett said, a little hesitantly, “after I got home, I took a two hour nap, then hung out with Justin for a while, and then slept for another sixteen hours or so. And I’ve been making sure to keep getting more sleep since then. So, I’m a little better rested, at least.”

Her eyebrows drew together in worry and she opened her mouth, closed it again. “Well,” she finally said, “if you need anything, let me know, okay? I don’t know how useful I’ll be, but… I can try, right?”

Brett smiled. “Thanks, Iffy.”

She sat down in the corner with her food, out of the way and quiet.

The night dragged on up to the last minute of business hours, then, at 10:59, a small group of men walked in, loud and obnoxious and drunk and of course, of _course_ this would happen on the night he had to pick up Darcey from the airport. He glanced over to Iffy’s corner. She was peering over the top of her book warily. Brett didn’t blame her. They even made him a little nervous.

But even though they were annoying and loud and asked a lot of stupid questions and kept changing their order, they were polite and nobody was hostile, but they couldn’t count and Brett had to put their money in little piles to help them along and say things like, “Okay, now you owe me five more dollars… yes, that’s one, okay, now four more…”

By the time Brett finally got them out of the door it was already 11:20. He locked the door and called over, “Sorry, Iffy. We’ll be on our way soon. But I have to pick my cousin up at the airport and I don't know if I'll have time to drop you off first. Do you mind coming with me or do you really need to get back?”

Iffy looked up from her book and said, “I guess I can go with you? I don’t have anywhere to be. I have a thing with Nate tomorrow but not until ten, so I can sleep in a little if I get home late.”

“Thanks.” Brett walked back to the condiment bar to grab all the salsas for overnight storage and to wipe down the counter. He talked as he cleaned. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting --”

“It’s cool,” Iffy said. “It happens. No harm done.”

There were only three people on shift, Brett and two in the back, but it was so slow for so long, they managed to keep the restaurant relatively clean, so it didn’t take long to wrap the night up.

The air was still and hot, the orange streetlights sharp against the broken black pavement. Sky Harbor Airport was about thirty minutes away. They had to get moving.

But traffic was clear so late. Everybody was either still out drinking or at home sleeping. Iffy was in the backseat fiddling with her phone, even though Brett had offered her shotgun. But when he explained why they were going to the airport, she’d insisted on taking the back.

“So they stop-lossed him?” she asked. She finally looked up from her phone, Her soft brown eyes were reflected in the rearview mirror.

“Yeah.”

She sighed and shook her head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Brett was a little hesitant, a little nervous. A little confrontational. He didn’t agree with the war or what the government was doing, but this was _Darcey_. He was doing the best he could and he was one of the strongest, bravest, _kindest_ people Brett knew.

“No, just… my dad was in Vietnam,” she explained. “Which, really, in a lot of ways, is a lot like the war in the Middle East. But, you know, it was the sixties, and he’s Black, so… he was disposable. Like, moreso than the other soldiers. When he got back he couldn’t get his benefits so he worked for a while so he could put himself through school for political science. He joined the Panthers, trying to help people who’d been screwed over like him. That’s how he met my mom. This was all long before I was born,” she added quickly. “So I only know what he’s told me. But… combat fucks people up, Brett. Really bad. Just keep an eye on him and take care of him, I guess. I guess that’s what I’m saying.”

They both fell quiet for a very long time.

Neither of them spoke much for the rest of the drive. When Brett just started to navigate the different lanes leading to the airport, his phone rang. He shoved his phone between his ear and shoulder and put his hand back on the wheel.

“Hey, you here?”

“Yeah.” Darcey’s voice was soft and tired, but also relieved.

“Okay.” Brett smiled so wide it almost made his face hurt. Even though his visit was under terrible circumstances, Brett was still so glad his cousin was here. “Gimme a minute. You’re coming in on four, right?”

“Yeah. I should be getting out there, soon.”

“Awesome,” Brett grinned. The phone slid a little as he turned into his lane and his hand darted over to right it. He glanced up at Iffy’s reflection in the rear view mirror. “I, uh, do have a friend with me, though.”

Iffy looked up from her phone and grinned.

“I was going to give her a ride home but got stuck late at work and ended up having to bring her along so I could get here on time. I’m going to drop her off on our way back to my place. We just didn’t have time on our way here. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Darcey said. “Sure.”

He sounded so _tired_. But Brett couldn’t blame him. He hung up and Brett dropped his phone into his lap until he could get to it safely, and he followed his lane to the pick up zone. Darcey would find them.

He slid his phone back in his pocket. The trunk popped, then closed, and the back door opened. Brett shook his head and snapped his fingers at his cousin, gesturing him forward. “Nuh-uh. Front seat for you.”

Iffy agreed, then went back to whatever she was doing on her phone.

Darcey joined Brett in the front. Before he was even fully sitting, Brett unbuckled his seatbelt and threw himself at his cousin, hugging him tighter and closer than he’d ever hugged anyone, because Darcey was _here_ , living and breathing and warm and _alive_. And when Darcey wrapped his arms back around him, Brett nearly broke.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Darcey, you’re really here.”

“Yeah.” Darcey’s arms tightened around him, huge and strong. Darcey had always been so much bigger than him, but suddenly, Brett felt so small, like a child. Darcey could probably snap him in half if he wanted to.

Eventually, they pulled away from each other and snapped their seatbelts into place. Brett shifted gears and looked over his shoulder so he could merge back onto the street.

“Hey, Brett?” Iffy asked. Darcey looked over his shoulder at her. “Oh, sorry. My name’s Iffy, by the way.”

“Darcey.”

“Good to meet you.”

Brett glanced up to the rear view mirror when she said his name again.

“Yeah?”

“Could you drop me off at an apartment on McDowell instead? It’s close to where Vi lives.”

Brett raised an eyebrow and said, “I don’t know where Vi lives.” He chuckled when she frowned, and he continued, “Iffy, I’ve never even met her. I just know she exists because you talk about her sometimes.”

“Shit, um,” she said. “I can give you directions. I just got a text from one of my friend Jordan’s other friends and he’s in pretty bad shape. I guess this happens a lot?”

Brett didn’t even know who Jordan was, but the way she was talking to him like he naturally understood everything was a good sign, right? It meant she’d welcomed him in as a friend, at least. “His friend said he’s marathoning romcoms on like, volume level twenty and eating a five pound chocolate bar. So I guess it’s pretty serious.”

Brett choked back a laugh and managed to disguise it as a cough, but not well, because Darcey looked over at him with a raised eyebrow and his mouth twisted into an amused half-smirk.

“What?” Brett choked on it a little, but Iffy’s faced was amused, too, so he wasn’t too concerned with causing offense. “Uh, sure, I guess. That’s no problem. You’ll be able to get home from there? Because I can’t come pick you back up.”

“He’s a friend of Renee’s, too,” she said. “I’m sure if I need her to I can talk her into coming to get me. Worse comes to worse, I sleep on his couch and Nate can pick me up there instead of at my place.”

Brett looked over at Darcey. McDowell wasn’t too far out of their way, but it was a little more so than Iffy’s place, and Darcey looked exhausted. “Is it okay if we make a detour?” he asked. Darcey shrugged and leaned against the window. Brett frowned, hands tightening on the steering wheel. “We can stop through somewhere for food on the way back if you need to. I’ll pay. I know airplane food is awful. If they even fed you.” He swallowed nervously and his fingers twitched, but when Darcey finally looked at him again, his cousin was smiling.

“They didn’t. And honestly, I’m grateful.”

Brett smiled back, even if it was a little nervous.

_Fuck_.

Maybe he and Iffy ate before they came to get him? It _was_ late, after all. Darcey would believe him. Right?

Darcey leaned against the window again and everyone was silent. Brett turned on the radio. Every now and then he tried to offer conversation, to anyone in the car, by asking a question or commenting on the band whose song is playing or pointing out a billboard or _anything_ , but nobody else spoke, so eventually he stopped talking, too.

Once they were off the freeway, Iffy started talking enough to give Brett directions to the apartment. It seemed like all of the complexes in Phoenix were based on the same three models, and this one looked a lot like Brett’s only mirrored. He pulled into the first parking space available, since they wouldn’t be there long. Iffy squeezed his shoulder on her way out the door with a “Thanks so much, Brett. I owe you one.”

Brett smiled and turned calling out a “You’re welcome.” She closed the door.

Darcey started and Brett chuckled a little, turning to make a comment about jumpiness, but something was _wrong_. His eyes were wild and panicked and his hand flailed wildly at his belt, like he was reaching for --

_Oh God oh God oh God_

“Darcey?”

He didn’t respond. Brett tried again, louder.

“Darcey!”

Brett jerked his seatbelt off and threw himself at Darcey, grabbing his arm and almost taking Darcey’s fist to his stomach. He twisted out of the way and grabbed Darcey’s wrist and oh God he was crying what was going on _Oh God oh God Darcey --_

“Darcey!”

Darcey stilled. When he turned to Brett, his eyes were wide, a little vacant. Terrified. Teary. Brett had never seen him cry before. What just _happened_?

“I’m sorry,” Darcey choked. He shrank back, like he was ashamed. He covered his face with one hand. Hiding. Like he was afraid of Brett.

Brett loosened his hold on Darcey’s arms and whispered, “What just happened?”

“I don’t know.” Darcey’s whisper was hoarse. His hands shook. He paused, looking around almost a little desperately, trying to place his surroundings. _You’re safe here, you’re safe,_ Brett wanted to say. But he couldn’t get his mouth to work right. “What did…” Darcey breathed in, slow and shaky. “What happened?”

One of Brett’s hands was tight on Darcey’s arm, the other loose on the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, because he didn’t know what just happened. But hopefully this was the right thing. Darcey was shaking.

“I don’t know either,” Brett whispered. “Iffy slammed the car door and you just… you jumped up, and I thought it just startled you, but you were just… you were obviously scared of something.” His throat was tight, his hands were shaking, too, and he was talking too fast. “Your eyes were totally panicked, and you were scrambling around like you were looking for something. I tried to talk to you but you didn’t respond until I started yelling.”

“I didn’t even _hear_ you until you started yelling,” Darcey whispered back. His eyes darted around the inside of the car. He glanced over his shoulder and out the back window. His movements were quick and sharp and a little scared.

“Where --”

“Baghdad.”

Brett drew in a sharp breath through his teeth. His hands tightened. _Oh, God, it was a flashback_. Darcey was talking in short, clipped sentences and stumbled half-phrases as he tried to explain. A school. Little kids, his sister’s age. After a few minutes, Darcey buried his face in his hands again, as if he could hide from it there, and Brett wished he could, he wished _he_ could hide Darcey, but the best he could do was wrap his arms around his cousin and reassure him that he was there, that he’d help, that whatever this was, he would help him get treatment. It was probably PTSD.

Knowing that ripped Brett’s heart straight through his ribcage.

_Oh, God, Darcey._

Darcey’s whole body was tense, every muscle coiled tight, every joint locked, as they sat with Brett’s arms around him, talking quietly.

All Brett wanted was for him to be okay.

When he said it aloud, Darcey said he wasn’t sure it was even possible, and it cut like a blade, because that meant there was nothing he could do.

Eventually, Brett pulled away and fastened his seatbelt again. Together, they decided to grab drive-thru on the way home.

The drive was quiet, tense, with only the bare minimum of conversation, because what could they say? What could _Brett_ say when his best friend was suffering and there was nothing he could do to help?

Brett made another attempt at small talk once they’d gone through the drive-thru. Darcey didn’t comment on his lack of order. Brett had never been so grateful for something and so upset about the why before. He talked a little bit about Darcey’s sisters, even though he hadn’t seen them in a while. He talked about Darcey’s mom. Brett hadn’t seen her, either, but he talked with her on the phone sometimes. He talked about his dad a bit, but it had been so long with the exception of his recent phone call that Brett didn’t know what he was up to.

Until now, he didn’t realize how much he’d disconnected from his family. He’d been pushing everyone he loved away. Was he hurting them as much as he’d hurt Justin?

Darcey mostly listened. Sometimes he nodded or shook his head, so Brett knew he could hear him. His cousin had never been one for small talk, but maybe hearing a familiar voice would help keep him here.

When they got back to Brett’s apartment, Darcey followed him up the stairs. Brett kept talking, even though he felt stupid. School. Classes. Work. Justin. His friends. Anything. Darcey did ask about Iffy. Brett mentioned her dad was in the military, but he didn’t know what branch or what he did, so that train of conversation died pretty quickly.

Darcey dropped his bag on the floor and the second Brett closed the door, his cousin started pulling off his shirt and asked, “Can I use your shower?”

“Yeah, of course,” Brett said. He sighed inwardly in relief that he’d thought to pull down the sheet over the mirror that morning. If Darcey had seen it, he’d know something was going on. “Use anything. Eat anything. You can --”

“Thanks,” Darcey interrupted softly, and he was gone.

Brett sighed. His chest tightened and his brow drew down. The tension was giving him a headache, but he didn’t attempt to follow Darcey. His cousin needed space. Darcey wouldn’t talk until he was ready, and pushing would just frustrate both of them. Brett understood that Darcey needed his privacy, but sometimes he wished he didn’t need so _much_ of it.

He just wanted to fix everything. Darcey’s problems. Justin’s problems. He just wanted the people he loved to be okay. To be happy, like they deserved.

He sighed and moved Darcey’s bag to the corner so nobody would trip on it and put the food on the desk for him for when he got out of the shower. It wasn’t until Brett plopped down on the bed that he realized how _exhausted_ he was, but it was probably already almost 2:00 a.m. At least he didn’t have to work later. He and Darcey were going to see Darcey’s family. And after that, Brett would start visiting more often. His dad was so far away he couldn’t visit regularly, but he’d start calling more.

His eyes were closed when Darcey came back into the main room, but Brett was half awake and he slurred, “Food’s on the desk. You can use the microwave if you want.”

Darcey’s hand was heavy on his shoulder when he sat down behind him, protecting, paternal, like he needed to protect Brett instead of the other way around, and it broke Brett’s heart.

“Do you want some?” Darcey asked. “One of them is vegetarian.”

Brett held up a limp hand and murmured a soft, “S’okay.”

They were quiet for a moment, and then Darcey said, “All right. But you’re eating in the morning.”

But Brett was already too far asleep to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I'm going to be out of town next week, so no updates next Thursday. I'll be back on Friday though, so everything will go back to normal on the 22nd!


	25. Chapter 25

What was supposed to originally be a six hour shift had stretched into ten hours, and by the time Justin finally got off work and went back to his car, he was exhausted. It was still only 3:00, but he’d been up almost twelve hours now, and his feet hurt and he smelled like sweat and hot milk. But he was pretty sure Brett still had those clothes he borrowed that one time, so hopefully, he could change.

Really, he just wanted to go home, but Brett really wanted him to meet his cousin. Justin had never been invited by a partner to meet family before. There was no way he’d turn it down, especially considering Darcey’s circumstances.

At least he’d gotten some solid sleep last night, now that he and Brett had finally talked. Justin was grateful Nate had taken it upon himself to push some things around. Although his friend hadn’t said anything, Justin knew. He could see the relief on Nate’s face when he came home that night, the very small but self-satisfied smile when he said they’d finally talked things out.

All Nate had said was, _Good. Don’t be stupid anymore. I want you both to be happy_.

So Justin _wouldn’t_ be stupid anymore. He came so close to screwing up the best thing to ever happen to him. He was never going to be stupid again.

The first thing he did when he walked in Brett’s door was take off his shoes, and oh, God, just that tiny thing made him feel so much better. Brett wrapped his arms around him in his usual welcome hug and Justin slumped against him, burying his nose in his boyfriend’s shoulder. Brett’s bone was sharp against his mouth. He still wasn’t gaining any weight back. He might have been getting thinner, even.

“Are you okay?” Brett asked.

Justin hummed softly in the affirmative. “Just really, really tired. Sorry I’m over so late.”

“Yeah, I got your text,” Brett said. “Four extra hours?”

“Well,” Justin started. He pulled away, but left his hands on Brett’s hips. Thin, narrow, hard. “I didn’t really _have_ to. But Blue’s dog got sick from out of nowhere this morning and he had to rush her to the vet and needed someone to cover his shift until he could come in. And I was already there, and you know how I am about pets.”

“Yeah,” Brett grinned. He kissed the corner of Justin’s mouth. The sound of a clearing throat came from over by his computer. Brett turned a little pink and smiled sheepishly as Justin looked over to the man at his desk.

“You must be Darcey?” Justin asked.

He smiled and stood and they took a step toward each other. He was even bigger than he’d looked -- tall, broad shoulders, big arms. The complete opposite of Brett. His handshake was heavy and firm.

“Yeah,” he said. “Justin?”

“I was…” Brett started. He paused when they both looked over at him, and he looked over at Darcey nervously. Justin glanced back in his direction, but nothing seemed weird. “I was thinking maybe we could go out for coffee or something, since my place is so small?”

Justin looked from Darcey back to Brett and said, “I’m okay with that.”

Darcey nodded.

“But would you be okay with driving?” Justin asked. “I’m really tired and just kind of need to zone out for a while.”

Brett chuckled and nodded. He rested his hand on the small of Justin’s back as he walked past to the door, and even though his touch was a little weak, it still made Justin feel safe. It was comforting.

“Yeah,” he said. “Grab your shoes.”

When they got down to the parking lot, Justin tried to insist that Darcey take the front seat so he and Brett could spend some time together, but Darcey just grinned and held his hands up with a half-shake of his head.

“The front seat is partner territory,” he said. He got in the backseat and that was the end of the conversation. Another one started as they got situated and Brett started up the car. They decided to go to the twenty-four hour coffee shop Justin and Brett had gone to the first time they came out. Justin thought he remembered hummus being on the menu, so he could probably even grab something to eat.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, still on silent from when he was at work. He pulled it out and checked the caller ID. Susan. He’d call her back later. He pressed ignore and put his phone away as Brett finished telling a joke, and he’d missed half of it but laughed, anyway.

The café was mostly empty, with just a few people scattered around and no musician this time. Justin ordered first, an iced caramel latte with the syrup, not the sauce, and he was about to pay when Darcey stepped in front of him and said, “I’ve got it.” He left Justin standing there with his wallet half out of his pocket and his other hand hanging in the air. Justin glanced at Brett, who mouthed, _Just let him. He won’t let you argue._

So Justin did, and he thanked him.

Darcey got black coffee and Brett got unsweetened green tea, which was weird, because he usually took his tea with sugar. But maybe he was trying to cut back. Even though Brett was getting his energy back, he was still tired a lot and wasn’t regaining weight, so he was obviously still trying to fight off the last of the sickness. He was probably just trying to eat healthier until he got better. When Justin got sick, he always did the same thing.

His phone vibrated. Susan’s name was on the caller ID. Whatever it is, she thought it was important.

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

“Is everything --” Brett started.

But Justin was already out the door, the phone to his ear.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Justin?”

The note of hysteria in her voice locked Justin’s feet to the sidewalk.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, God, oh God, Justin, I’m so sorry.” She was crying, panicked, and suddenly Justin couldn’t breathe because his throat had collapsed on itself. He barely managed to croak out,

“Sus -- Mom, Mom, calm down. What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Justin, I’m so sorry,” she repeated.

“For _what_?” Justin’s words were sharp and hard, but it was what she needed because she gasped in a breath and slowed down.

“I… I… we’re having trouble with the computer again,” she started.

“Okay, so, that’s fine,” Justin said. “I can come back over when Dad’s at work, it’s --”

“No, no, no,” she sobbed. “No, I… I was going to… I was going to have you come over, and… and the last time you were here I overheard you leaving that message on the phone, and then after I came back you’d said you’d talked to your…” She choked on her next word and suddenly the back of Justin’s neck _burned_. “Your partner,” she finally managed. “And… and so I said that you and he could probably figure it out… and I’m sorry, Justin, I wasn’t, I didn’t mean… this wasn’t supposed to happen, it was going to be okay, it --”

“You told Paul about my boyfriend?” Justin whispered. His tongue was dry and sticky, like his mouth was full of honey-soaked cotton.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. She didn’t even correct Justin’s use of his first name.

Justin turned and glanced back through the window. Brett and Darcey were sitting at their table, talking and laughing. Brett was leaning on his elbows, chair tilted back on two legs, his legs outstretched under the table and his ankles crossed, thin and lanky in a way that should have been awkward but instead was the very definition of grace.

Justin’s eyes locked on Brett’s face. His smile was bright even though his cheeks were hollow. Justin had never meant anything more than when he said, “I don’t care what he thinks. I’m not leaving him. You both knew this was going to happen and I’m not going to take responsibility for his bullshit anymore.”

Susan sucked in a hiss of breath, tinny and sharp, and exclaimed, “Justin!”

“So, what, Susan?” he asked. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t fix this. I didn’t even break it.” He was talking too fast, his words were sharp in defense and blame and he hated himself for it, because it wasn’t her fault _But it is,_ something whispered in the back of his head, _it is because she never tried, she was never there until it was too late to matter_.

“ _No_.” She sobbed again, heavy and thick. “No, Justin, this isn’t your fault. It’s my fault. I should know how to fix this. I should know what to do. But he’s not listening, Justin, and --”

“And he _won’t_ ,” Justin said. His voice was soft, now. “If he ever cared in the first place, he wouldn’t have gone back to that Church. He’d have found a different one with better people who don’t think I’m fucking disgusting.”

“Justin --”

“I…” He paused, choking on his words. He cleared his throat and held his curled hand tight to his mouth as he tried to breathe. The knowledge that this would inevitably happen someday didn’t make it any less painful now that it was here. “So,” he started over, “what did he say? What does he want?”

Susan was quiet.

“Susan, _please_.” She stifled a sob. “This is important.” More silence. Then, hesitantly, in a voice so small, Justin asked, “Am I going to be safe?”

“You can’t come back here,” she whispered. “But I don’t think he’ll come to your house. I’m sorry.”

Justin’s chest tightened. His skin was freezing, even in the August heat, and his palms were slick with sweat. He tried to force down the sharp prickle at the back of his throat and in his eyes. “What does that mean?” he murmured.

Susan was crying again, thick heavy sobs. “I’ll try to come see you sometimes while he’s at work,” she continued. “We can meet for lunch or coffee. But you can’t come to our house anymore.”

“Mom, what --” He had to pause. His hands were shaking. “Mom, what are you saying? What’s happening, here? Are you…?” But then his tongue stuck, thick and heavy, and the question hung in the air, unasked. _Are you disowning me?_

“Your dad will be home soon,” was all she said. “I have to go. I’ll try to call you on Monday. But you shouldn’t call here anymore. Just in case.”

She hung up without saying “I love you” or “goodbye,” leaving him with a silent phone pressed against his ear. For a minute, he stood there, too stunned to move, but then, finally, he remembered how to work his muscles again. He lowered his arms, slid his phone into his pocket, and slumped against the wall-sized window. It was cold, even through his shirt. His breathing came heavy and erratic and panicked. He’s always known this would happen so he’d been ready, but he _wasn’t_ , _nobody_ could be ready for something like this. His hands shook when he ran them through his hair. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, scrubbed the faint wetness from his eyes away with the heel of his hand. He went back inside.

Darcey and Brett were laughing when he walked in. Brett shook his head, took a sip of his tea, and looked up at the door as Justin entered. He must not have cleaned himself up as well as he’d thought he had, because Brett’s smile dropped.

“Justin?” he asked softly. Justin sat down beside him. Darcey went quiet, his gaze shifting between the two of them. Justin shook his head.

“Justin, what --”

“ _Later_.”

Brett flinched, his eyes going wide at the harshness of Justin’s voice. _I’m an asshole_. “I’m sorry,” Justin sighed. I --”

“I’m going to go grab something to eat,” Darcey said. He grabbed his coffee cup, and Justin didn’t miss the gentle pat on Brett’s shoulder as he walked past. Justin was grateful that even though Darcey was so blunt and straightforward, he was sensitive enough to notice when they needed space and gave it to them without asking.

For a long moment, thy both sat in silence, until Brett said, just above a whisper, “Are you okay?”

Justin pressed his knee to Brett’s. Brett pressed back. The younger man turned his hand palm up for his boyfriend to take, if he wanted. He didn’t. Justin curled his fingers into his palm and brought his hand closer to the edge of the table.

“Susan doesn’t want me over at the house anymore.”

His eyes were locked on his hand. He wasn’t going to screw around with “Mom and Dad” anymore. If they weren’t going to act like parents, he wasn’t going to treat them like they were. His fingers slowly curled in and out as he watched the twitch of his muscle in his palm. Suddenly everything was so hot, like he’d fallen face first into a fire. Flames of shame and anger bit at his neck, his throat, his chest.

“What --” Brett started, but Justin interrupted.

“She told Paul about us.” His voice was soft, but at least it wasn’t shaking. “And he’s pissed. And I can’t go over anymore. That’s all I know. Susan’s not… she’s not good at talking about, well, _anything_ , really. There’s a reason I suck at emotions.” His voice cracked on the last syllable. He cleared his throat and fell silent.

Then, Brett’s thin, warm fingers curled around Justin’s hand and he just _couldn’t_ anymore. Justin’s head dropped to his other hand, covering his eyes as if he could block things out even though he knew he couldn’t. Brett’s fingers tightened and he said softly, sincerely, “I’m so sorry, Justin.”

Justin barely managed to bite back a sob. He nodded a few times, a little frantic, trying to say _thank you, thank you_ , and also _I’m sorry_ , even though he had nothing to apologize for.

Brett gripped Justin’s hand even tighter. The smaller man’s joints knocked against his.

“I love you, okay?” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Justin finally managed, thick and wet, from behind his hand. It slipped from his eyes and mouth, shaky and clammy. He blinked a few times, _hard_ , to try to remind himself to keep breathing. Keep breathing. He opened his mouth and stumbled, then tried again. “I love you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Brett whispered. Justin opened his eyes when his boyfriend’s warm forehead and the soft curl of his hair nudged against his cheek, but everything came back blurry, so he shut them again. He might cry in private, or in front of Nate, or in front of Brett, but never out in public, never where the world that didn’t understand could see.

“Do you want to just get going?” Brett asked softly. “We could go back to my place to hang out. You could stay with me and Darcey. If you’d rather be with Nate, you can go back home from there. I understand.”

Justin nodded, not sure what he was affirming. He just knew he needed to get somewhere more private.

“I’ll go tell Darcey to have them wrap his food up,” Brett said. He squeezed Justin’s hand one more time and knocked their knees together. When he kissed Justin’s temple as he stood, Justin nearly lost it, but he just managed to keep a grip on his emotions and reel them back in again. He nodded, afraid to speak.

Brett’s hand was firm on his shoulder when he whispered, “I love you, Justin. I know I can’t fix this. But I’ll do my best to help you through it.”

Justin barely choked out a “Thank you, Brett,” but Brett was gone.


	26. Chapter 26

Darcey’s return flight to Louisiana was scheduled to leave a little after 1:00, so Brett got him there at 11:00, and for a few long moments that stretched on to forever, they sat in silence beside each other in the car.

“Well,” Darcey said, “I guess --”

And Brett threw himself at him, wrapping his arms tightly around Darcey’s shoulders, fingers digging into his back. Brett had hoped he could at least keep himself together until Darcey left, but he couldn’t. He started sobbing, thick and heavy and bone-shaking.

Darcey hugged him tight, rubbing his hands up and down Brett’s back, and he whispered, “Hey, it’s okay. It’ll be okay. I promise.” And it was just like they were little kids again, like Brett had fallen and hurt himself playing tag and Darcey had swooped down to pick everything up and fix it, like he always had. “It’ll be okay,” he repeated.

Brett sniffled and nodded, even though he didn’t believe it. Things wouldn’t be okay until Darcey was home for good.

“I have to go,” Darcey murmured. Brett nodded, but neither of them let go. Finally, Brett loosened his grip. Darcey grinned and ruffled Brett’s hair and Brett couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “I’ve got this, okay?” Darcey said.

Then he was out the door with his bag and gone.

Brett didn’t know how long he stayed parked at the curb. His face was hot with tears, his eyes burned, his shoulders and stomach ached from sobbing, but he couldn’t _stop_. But when someone knocked on his passenger’s window, he wiped his face as best he could and tried to scrub his eyes out with the heel of his hand. He rolled down the window and a middle-aged woman in an airline uniform said, “I’m sorry, sir, you can’t park here. You have to --”

“Yeah,” Brett said. “Sorry. I’ll go.”

He didn’t get very far. He pulled off at the first exit and into the first parking lot he saw. His fingers shook when he called Justin. His boyfriend didn’t answer. Brett hadn’t expected him to, since he had to work, but he left a message asking him to call on his break. He texted Nate. Ten minutes later, no response. Maybe he was at work, too. His dad was too far away to meet up with and he didn’t want Darcey’s sisters to see him like this. Everyone else Brett knew was in another state, except…

He didn’t care if it was weird. He called Iffy. She’d understand, right? Being from a military family? Even if her dad did retire before she was born.

The phone rang four times, five, six. Brett was about to give up and just go home and try to set up a chat with Annie when she finally answered. “Hello? Are you still there?”

“Iffy?”

“Yeah.” She paused. “Brett?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey! How are…” She trailed off. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, as if she’d just remembered what day it was. “How are you?”

“So, I know this is weird,” he said, “because we only met each other, like, three days ago --”

“Four,” Iffy said. “But go on.”

“But Justin’s at work and Nate’s not answering my texts, and I just dropped Darcey off at the airport and I don’t want his sisters to see me like this. They’re only nine and thirteen, and --”

“Yeah, Nate’s sister is in the hospital,” she said. “He probably doesn’t have reception there.”

“Oh, shit, is she okay?” Brett asked.

“I think so?” Iffy said. “She had a really high fever and fainted. I personally think she got heat sick but, still, she’s young and apparently pretty small so better safe than sorry, right?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Nate’s been texting me on and off with updates. They’ll probably let her out later tonight. Right now they’re pumping her full of liquids because she’s really dehydrated, and then they’ll see from there.”

“But she’s okay?”

“She’s okay. Just got a pretty big scare. She’ll be all right.” She paused. “So, I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“I just dropped Darcey off at the airport, and --”

“When and where do you want me to meet you?” she asked.

Brett didn’t have many friends, but he was so, so grateful for the ones he did.

“I know you have to take the bus,” he said. “I can meet you somewhere near your apartment. What’s easy for you to get to?”

“Well,” she said, “Anywhere near the school is a pretty quick, straight shot. Is the student union open on Sundays? We could even meet there.”

“No. Everything’s locked up.”

“Hm. Well… there’s the coffee shop Justin works at?” she suggested. “I know he’s been having kind of a hard time recently. He’d probably like to see some friendly faces.”

“He told you?” Brett couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. Justin was so private about family matters, and he couldn’t have known Iffy much longer than Brett had.

“No?” she said. “I just invited Nate out last night but he said Justin was having a some trouble and he needed to stay with him. That’s all I really know?”

“Oh,” Brett said.

“Well, if you don’t want to go there, there’s that other café on the other side of the street?”

“No,” he said. “That’s fine. “Do you want me to pick you up, or do you want to meet me there?”

“I can meet you there,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“All right. Thank you, Iffy.”

“It’s okay. I --“

“Really. Thank you.”

She was quiet a moment before she said, gently, “You’re welcome. I’ll see you soon.”

Even though the airport was far from both where Brett lived and where he worked, it was really close to the school, so he got there in about ten minutes. There was a bit of a line leading up to the counter, so he sat in the corner to wait for Iffy. He was broke, but the least he could do was buy her a cup of coffee for her trouble. While he waited, he watched Justin work. His boyfriend didn’t notice him at first, but his eyes darted over the room as he handed out someone’s coffee and they fell on Brett. He smiled and mouthed, _Okay?_ Brett just mimed a phone by his ear and pointed to him. _I called you_. Justin nodded and pointed to his wrist, then to the back, then held up five fingers. His break was in five.

Brett smiled and nodded. Justin went back to work.

Brett jumped when a small, thin hand gently grabbed his shoulder, and his head jerked up to see Iffy. She pulled her hand back against her chest. She stared at him a moment, eyes wide, then smiled and relaxed and said, “Hey. Sorry I scared you.”

He shook his head as she sat down across from him. “No, I… it’s… I’m kind of jumpy right now. Sorry.”

Iffy shrugged with a half-grin. Her eyes darted over Brett, and it faded. He looked down.

“You look really awful,” she said gently. “Can I get you a coffee or something?”

“I was going to offer to do the same for you,” Brett said. He looked up. Her brown eyes were so soft, worried. “Since you came out here and everything.”

Iffy smiled softly and shook her head. “Can I get you something to eat?” she asked. “A sandwich or a cookie or something? You’ve lost a lot of weight since we last saw each other, and it hasn’t been that long.”

Brett’s throat tightened and his fingers curled in on his knees. “No, I…” He paused, swallowed, looked up at her face again. “I kind of feel like I’ll throw up if I try to eat anything right now.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. Maybe he could start eating a little more once he just had to maintain, but for now, he ate no more than one hundred or so calories a day. It was the _one thing_ he could control and he was not going to let go of it.

He glanced up at the counter again. His eyes darted around, looking for Justin, but it was his hand that was suddenly between his shoulders, heavy, warm, familiar. Brett looked up and a relieved smile pulled at his mouth as he curled his arm around Justin’s neck. It faded when his boyfriend caught his wrist and shook his head.

“Not here,” Justin whispered. His eyebrows drew down, and his voice was pained when he continued. “I’m sorry, but --” He glanced at the counter, anxious, and dropped Brett’s hand. “I’m sorry, but Cody’s here, and even though Blue’s here, too, if she sees us she’ll make the rest of my shift miserable and --”

“It’s okay,” Brett said gently. Even though it hurt, he understood. Justin had to make sure his job was safe. Now that he wasn’t in school, his job was all he really had.

Even though all Brett wanted to do was throw his arms around Justin and curl into his chest, and he couldn’t.

Justin’s face relaxed and he gave Brett a soft smile and sat down between him and Iffy. He looked over at her with a small smile and a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hey, Justin,” she smiled. “How are you?”

He shrugged as he rubbed the back of his neck. Brett’s eyes wandered down Justin’s chin, his throat, to his shoulder, where the familiar glint of light off his silver chain… wasn’t?

“Justin?” Brett asked. Justin turned toward him. Brett gestured at his own neck as he asked, “Where’s…?”

“It’s gone,” Justin said simply. He turned back to Iffy, making it clear that this wasn’t something to talk about right now. He was only on his break, after all. Brett didn’t want him to have to go back to work upset. He nudged his knee against Justin and the younger man dropped his hand into his lap. Brett covered his mouth with a curled had to hide his smile when Justin squeezed his knee.

They didn’t talk about much. They didn’t talk about Darcey. They didn’t talk about Justin’s family. Iffy gave them updates on Nate’s sister as they came. Justin was about five minutes away from going back on the clock when Iffy dropped it on them.

“I want to take you two out for dinner later,” she said. “If that’s not weird.”

Brett looked away from Justin and over to Iffy, eyebrows raised. Justin looked just as surprised. Brett tried to keep his face calm and breathing steady.

“You don’t have to --” he started, but she interrupted.

“I want to,” she said. “And don’t worry about the money. It’s not something I can do all the time, but the community center where I teach just expanded their classes so starting tomorrow I’m going to be working almost double what I have been. Share the good fortune, you know?”

“Iffy,” Justin said, “it’s --“

“It’s _fine_ ,” she insisted. “Let me. Please? Or you can take me to the store and I’ll buy ingredients and we can make dinner at… your place?” she asked a little hesitantly, turning to Justin. “My kitchen can’t handle all of us at once. Sorry.”

“I…” Justin looked over at Brett, who tried to ask him, silently, _no, no, no, no food, no dinner, please,_ but Justin couldn’t read his mind and Brett wasn’t sure he wanted him to.

“I think it would be cool,” Justin finally said. He was still watching Brett, waiting for his approval. But if he wanted to, Brett wouldn’t take that away from him. “To just… hang out for a while. No pressures or anything, even if it’s just, like, an hour.”

Brett glanced from Justin to Iffy, and then said, “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” His excitement didn’t sound as forced as it was, because she smiled.

“Not gonna lie,” she grinned, “I’m not a very good cook, and I’ve never made vegan food before, so I’m definitely going to need guidance. But it’ll be fun.”

“It’s easy,” Justin grinned. He gestured at Brett, then back at himself again. “We’ll teach you.”

His phone alarm went off and his smile faded as he tugged it out of his pocket to turn it off.

“I’ve got to get back,” he said. He looked at the counter over Brett’s shoulder and he and Iffy both turned. There was nothing out of the ordinary, just Blue wiping down the counter and laughing with a customer. When Brett turned back, suddenly Justin’s lips were on his, and he gently squeezed the back of Brett’s neck as he stood.

“Thank you for understanding about Cody,” he whispered. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Yeah,” Brett murmured. “It’s fine. I understand. You’ve done the same for me so many times.”

Justin smiled. Brett smiled back.

“If you’re not still here, I’ll give you a call when I get out of work and we can figure out what we’re doing later.”

Justin squeezed Brett’s shoulder as he passed and Brett just barely curled his fingers around his boyfriend’s for the split second the rested against his shirt. He didn’t reply when Brett whispered, “I love you,” so Brett knew Justin didn’t hear him. Even in the worst of situations, he’d never _not_ respond to that.

When Brett looked back at Iffy again, there was an expression he couldn’t quite read on her face. She couldn’t have been uncomfortable because they didn’t even _do_ anything, and her roommate was gay (or bisexual? Brett knew better than to assume anymore), so she’d probably seen it hundreds of times.

“You okay?” he asked slowly, a little nervously.

Her eyes changed, and he realized even though they were in his direction, she wasn’t looking _at_ him.

“Yeah.” She coughed into her hand. “Sorry. Was just thinking.” She paused, then said, almost hesitantly, like she wasn’t sure if she should, “You guys seem really good for each other. If I can say so.”

Brett smiled. “Thanks.” He glanced over his shoulder again just as Justin appeared behind the counter. “He really means a lot to me. I really love him.”

‘Yeah,” Iffy agreed. She smiled. She smacked her hand on the table and said, “So! We’ve been here for over half an hour and I still have not bought you coffee. Come up to the counter with me?”

A line had formed, so they put in their orders quickly, and even though Brett would have liked to linger at the bar with Justin, he didn’t want to be a distraction, so he and Iffy went back to their table in the corner. She asked about his acting and if he’d been in anything recently. He wished he could have said yes, but he couldn’t. He missed the Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead auditions because he was so distracted and tied up with Darcey, but even though he was disappointed, his cousin was so much more important, and there would be other plays. Since then, he hadn’t looked. Even here in Tempe, there weren’t a lot of opportunities, and nothing had come up at the school yet. Iffy gave him a small, knowing smile, and he _had_ to ask, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

She chuckled and said, “I’m a dancer. I did a lot of performance in high school, but none since then. I think things are even thinner for me than for you. I understand.” She sighs and shrugs. “I’m going into teaching,” she said. “Probably English, writing or literature or something. I like it and I’m good at it. The pay will suck but at least I’ll always have a job and maybe, if things go well, eventually I can get a part time gig at a community college teaching dance classes or something. It’s not the same, but --“

“But at least you can still be near it,” Brett said. “I’m doing the same thing. Education’s my backup, just in case.”

She smiled. “I still can’t believe we ran into each other like that the other day,” she said. “I know I would have eventually met you anyway, through Nate, but.” She paused and looked down at her coffee. When she looked back up at him, she was grinning. “I know it’s dumb, but I like to think it was meant to be that way. Like, even if I didn’t know Nate, we still would have bumped into each other. You’re really cool, Brett. I like you a lot. And I’m glad we can be friends.”

Brett paused with his tea halfway to his mouth. A small smile crossed his lips. “Thanks, Iffy,” he said softly, but sincerely. “Nobody’s really said anything like that to me before. I think it’s pretty cool, too.”

They lingered and talked over coffee for a good three hours, and by the time they realized what time it was, Justin was scheduled off in half an hour, so they stayed until he got off work. Justin took his car and Brett took Iffy and they all met back at Justin’s house, where they piled into his car to head to the nearby Sprouts. Iffy mentioned from the backseat that she’d never been there before, and Justin grinned as Brett turned around over the seat and said, “It’s amazing. You’ll love it.”

But he didn’t know if _he_ would. He hadn’t stepped foot in a grocery store since he saw the doctor. Once every few days he’d buy a piece of fruit from a coffee shop, which usually lasted three days a piece. He hadn’t needed to go shopping so he hadn’t thought about it. But now that he was on his way, he nearly couldn’t stop his hands from trembling.

The parking lot was mostly empty when they arrived, and when Brett stepped through the automatic doors, the cold air of the air conditioner hit hard and even though it was in the triple digits outside and should have felt good, the cold was actually _painful_. It hurt his joints. It hurt his bones. Especially his wrists and hips, a deep, throbbing ache. But when Iffy gasped, her eyes darting over the bulk bins, the huge produce section, the loose leaf teas and spices, he smiled anyway. Justin gave him a knowing glance, because that had been Brett’s reaction his first time here, too.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Iffy laughed.

“Well,” Justin said, “what do you want to make later?” He looked at Brett. Brett shrugged, trying to push the decision back on them so he didn’t have to think about it. Oh, God, what was he going to do when they all sat down to eat?

“Let’s just do straight vegan so nobody has to worry about anything,” he said. They both thought he was saying it for Justin’s benefit, and he let them, but it was just as much for his because maybe, if he was lucky, it wouldn’t be as bad that way.

“Okay,” Iffy said. She paused, then looked up at Justin and said, “This is really embarrassing to admit, but… I don’t really know how to cook anything that doesn’t start with a box. I don’t even know where to start here.”

Justin laughed and Iffy chuckled unsurely, but she relaxed when he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll show you. A lot of cooking is intuitive, but it’s definitely something you can learn.” He grabbed a basket, then continued, “Well, cooking starts with grocery shopping. So let’s start with that.”

The three decided to make something involving minimal handling and eventually settled on lasagna, which blew Iffy’s mind, because, “How can you have lasagna without cheese?”

Justin laughed and patted her shoulder. “That’s what I’m going to show you.”

Brett had eaten Justin’s lasagna before, so he knew exactly what route they’d be taking through the store. It turned out Iffy hated eggplant, so they cut it and doubled up on the mushrooms and added some spinach, instead. Brett hung back and watched, holding the basket, while Justin showed Iffy how to pick the right produce, what to look for, what color it should be, what it should smell like. Brett had to choke back a laugh when they reached the tofu because there were so many different brands with firmnesses from soft to extra-firm and she got confused because, “Isn’t tofu just tofu?” So Justin explained that, too, when she’d want silken or soft and why they were using extra-firm in this recipe. When he said he had all the ingredients for the sauce at home, Iffy asked hesitantly, “We’re making the sauce from scratch?”

“It’s really easy,” Brett assured her. “I can even do it in my tiny kitchen.” Then he turned to Justin and said, “I think the only other thing is nutritional yeast, right?”

“ _Whoa_ ,” Iffy said firmly, holding up one hand. “Are you going to put yeast in my fucking pasta? I’m willing to try your tofu cheese but that’s _weird_.”

Justin laughed. “It’s not like… baking yeast.” His face turned thoughtful as he worked out how to describe it. “It’s actually really hard to explain. But it’s really good. It’s…fucking magical. It makes everything taste better. You’ll like it. I promise.”

Her hand hung in the air for a moment. She lowered it. “Well… okay. I’ll try it. But it still sounds weird.”

Brett laughed, and even though he was still scared about dinner and what he’d do and how he’d handle it, he was grateful he was here with Justin and Iffy, because whatever happened with Darcey, at least he’d still have them.

Justin said that, yes, he had nutritional yeast, so they went to the cashiers to get in line, and as they did, Brett pulled his phone out of his pocket to check for any calls or texts, to make sure Darcey’s flight was on time. He pushed a random button to turn the screen on. It stayed black.

When he sighed, Justin turned to him and asked, “Okay?”

Brett stuffed his phone back in his pocket and said, “Phone’s dead. Darcey should be landing in a few hours, and, just…”

“Do you want to go back for your charger?” Justin asked. “Mine isn’t compatible. Nate’s might be?”

Brett bit the corner of his lip. He needed to know when Darcey got back. He needed to know his cousin was safe. But if he didn’t answer, Darcey would leave a message, and he’d get it when he turned his phone back on. It might be nice, to have a few hours with his friends without any interruptions, to just get away for a few hours. No calls from work or telemarketers or the school’s admissions office.

So he said, “No, it’s okay. I’ll charge it when I get home.”

When everything was rung up, even though Iffy offered to pay, Justin pulled out his wallet, and they bickered for a few moments about who was going to cover it until the cashier laughed and said, “My boyfriend and I are the same way about our groceries!”

Brett almost felt bad that she looked so confused when the three of them started laughing, and in the distraction, Iffy swiped her card and said, “Quick, approve it before he can do anything about it!”

The cashier nodded and approved the payment. Iffy stuffed her receipt haphazardly in her purse and shoved the bags into Justin’s hands. “Here,” she said. “If you _must_ help, you can carry it.”

And when Brett laughed, it was bright and brash and for the first time in he didn’t know how long, he really meant it. And when he saw the amused smile on Justin’s face and the way it changed into _his_ smile when his boyfriend looked at him, he knew as long as they stuck together, they’d both be okay, even if it took a long time to get there.

It almost helped him forget about the fact that he was going to have no choice but to eat dinner later. But only almost.

When they got back to Justin’s house, they started dinner right away, because even though it wasn’t difficult, it was going to take a long time and Iffy and Justin hadn’t eaten much. Brett forced himself to stay calm even as he handled the food, chopping onions and garlic and ripping up basil and squishing tofu through his fingers, trying to do the math in his head. There were only two or three tablespoons of oil in the whole recipe, which was still a lot, but not as bad as it could be. The noodles were completely empty calories and there were a lot of them, but maybe he could get a very small piece with mostly vegetables and tofu. Justin had never been a fan of vegan cheeses, thank goodness. Brett was so grateful when Iffy didn’t ask if she could use some of Nate’s cheese on a corner of it, because then it would look weird if he turned it down.

Once it had time to bake, the kitchen started to smell _amazing_. It made Brett sick with deep, full body nausea, from his stomach and his head all the way out to his fingers and toes.

When it came out and Justin set his timer for ten minutes, the countdown was like a march to Brett’s execution.

The food was beautiful. It smelled fantastic. Justin was an excellent cook, and Brett could have easily gone at the whole pan with just his hands. He was disgusting. The three friends sat at the table and made small talk while they waited. Brett occasionally glanced over, wary, but Iffy couldn’t read him because she grinned and said, “I know! I can’t wait either.”

Brett gave her a half-hearted smile and a forced laugh that came out so naturally it made him hate himself. He should not have been such a good liar. There was a big difference between lying and acting, and he was _lying_ right now.

When the timer rang, they all gathered around while Justin plated everything up. Brett flinched at the size of the piece Justin cut for him, and he said, quickly, before his boyfriend could get it on his plate, “That’s too much.”

Justin paused, his spatula still hanging over the pan. He turned to Brett as he lowered it to cut it smaller, but before he could say anything, Iffy said, “But you haven’t eaten anything today?”

Brett’s jaw tightened and the back of his neck burned, but he’d gotten better at managing his facial expressions so they didn’t notice anything change. It almost hurt that Justin couldn’t read him as well as he used to, because Brett wanted him to. He thought? But he also didn’t, because he didn’t want his boyfriend to know how weak and pathetic he was.

“I know,” he said. _Don’t be hesitant. Don’t be shaky. Just be nonchalant about it_. “But… I don’t know if I can handle that much without making myself sick.” He flinched inwardly at his choice of words, but managed to keep it on his face. “I haven’t really gotten my appetite back.” His voice grew softer and softer as he spoke, nervous, _ashamed_ , and suddenly Iffy looked really uncomfortable. Brett was about to make up a reason to excuse himself when Justin said, “It’s okay. I know you’re still getting over it. That flu thing hit you really bad, didn’t it?”

Brett smiled weakly. Justin gently rested his hand on his hip, almost protective.

“It’s okay,” Justin repeated. “There will be plenty left. You can always come back for more if you’re up to it.”

_God, he’s perfect. I don’t deserve him._

“I’m sorry,” Iffy murmured. When Brett looked up to meet her eyes, hers were soft, sad, and a little angry, but Brett realized, it wasn’t at him, it was at herself. “I didn’t realize. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

Brett smiled. “It’s okay.” And when Justin squeezed his hip and put a tiny piece of lasagna on his plate, Brett was pretty sure it was true.

Thankfully, Iffy and Justin were more focused on the conversation than what was going on on Brett’s plate. He cut up his food and moved it around and every now and then raised his fork halfway, only to lower I again without actually putting anything in his mouth, using the conversation as an excuse. He couldn’t chew while he was talking, right?

When Iffy and Justin’s plates were clear, Brett scooped them up and stacked them on top of his to take to the sink. He scraped the leftover bits into the trash and carefully nudged the mushroom box over the scraps.

It was disgusting how good he was at this.

But then the meal was over and they all relocated into the living room, where they turned on the TV but didn’t really watch it. Justin pulled Brett halfway into his lap and wrapped his arms around his stomach and Iffy called them cute, and everything was okay. The stressful part of the day was over. It was probably only 6:00, and something in the back of Brett’s head told him he should think about getting back home, but he told it to shut up because it was early and he needed this.

And then, when he got up to grab a cup of water from the kitchen, it was dark outside the window above the sink. He glanced behind him at the clock on the microwave. 10:03? _How_?

As he walked back into the living room, water glass in hand, he announced, “Did you guys know it’s past ten?”

“What?” Iffy asked. Justin picked up his phone from the table to check the time.

“ _Shit_ ,” he murmured. “Hey, Iffy, have you heard anything from Nate?”

“No?” she said unsurely. She slipped her own phone out of her pocket. “No,” she repeated, a little more firmly.

“I’ll text him,” Justin said.

“So, no updates on his sister?” Brett asked as he sat down between them.

“No,” Justin said.

His phone when off. His eyes darted across the screen, then his shoulders relaxed, and he smiled and shook his head.

“She’s okay?” Brett asked. Iffy raised her head expectantly.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “She’s fine. But she’s really loving the attention and is playing it up a little and you know Nate. He got suckered right into it and agreed to a sleepover.”

Iffy smiled and Brett grinned and shook his head with a soft chuckle. How could they have expected anything else?

“Well,” Iffy said, “since that’s the case, if you guys feel up to it, I’d like to take you out for after dinner coffee?”

Brett held up his hand to protest, because she’d already done so much, but Iffy held up hers to match it. “If you’re going to whine about me paying for too much, we can all go Dutch. I know a really great place not too far from where Brett works,” she continued. “Called CounterCulture? A friend of mine works there. Jordan. The guy whose apartment you stopped at for me the other day, Brett?”

Brett shrugged and nodded. _Whatever you say_. He wasn’t paying much attention. He’d been more concerned with Darcey at the time.

“Yeah,” she said. “You did have a lot going on that night, and you’ve never met him. But he’s really sweet. Makes a really good cup of coffee.” She looked over at Justin apologetically. “Honestly, I know that guy you work with was saying you were the best, but you’ve got competition.”

Justin grinned.

“Well, I can’t turn it down _now_ ,” he chuckled. “I have to scout him out and see if I need to step up my game.” He turned to Brett. “If you feel up to it?”

Brett didn’t. He was so tired, all the way into his bones, and everything hurt, sharp and stabbing. Especially his joints. He needed to get home and charge his phone. But they both looked so hopeful, so he said, “Sure. Why not?” Coffee shops were mostly safe, and they wouldn’t expect him to eat since he ‘ate’ dinner earlier.

They all piled back into Justin’s car again. It took a while to get out to CounterCulture, but Justin always had good music available in his car and Iffy’s tastes were similar to theirs. Brett flipped through Justin’s CD book, filled with mostly local bands and mixes, and asked, “Hey, Iffy, do you like Skybox?”

“I don’t know!” she said. “I’m not familiar with them. I might. Put them on and let’s find out!”

So Brett slid the CD in, and the jaunty piano of the opening track filled the car. Iffy laughed and clapped like a little kid at Disneyland for the first time and said, “Oh, man, this is awesome! Could you burn me a copy?”

“Sure,” Brett grinned.

The coffee shop was actually an old house that had been repurposed, like the downtown district in Old Town Glendale where Brett had grown up. It was bright but warm inside, decorated in yellows and oranges, with couches and tables and soft, plush chairs. As they stepped up the single stair to get in line, Brett looked around. To his right was a small TV, but painted with a woman trying to break out of the screen. It was on. Brett didn’t recognize any of the voices in what was playing underneath it. From the next room over came a soft, almost trip-hop style beat and a woman performing a poem or a monologue of some kind.

Justin nudged his wrist against Brett’s and Brett looked back again. Justin smiled, questioningly. _This okay?_ Brett smiled and nodded.

They made small talk while they waited in line, about stupid, unimportant things, but it was what Brett needed just then and he was so, so grateful for it. He still had to face the reality of Darcey’s situation. Justin had his family problems. But not now. Not tonight. Tomorrow.

Brett didn’t really notice the man at the cash register until Iffy nudged his hip and said, “This is Justin and Brett,” gesturing at each of them in turn. Brett finally looked up.

“This is Jordan,” Iffy said.

He was a little shorter than Brett, Latino, with wild curly black hair and tattooed arms and the kind of smile that could make almost anyone titter and swoon.

“Hey,” he said, with a brief nod of his head and a bright smile.

_Welp, Brett, you are **definitely**_ _bisexual._ Justin wasn’t the male exception to people he found attractive anymore. _Once you start noticing random guys, I guess that’s how you know?_

But by this time, it wasn’t something he thought much about anymore unless it actively affected him at the time, like earlier at Justin’s work. Justin was Justin, and he was a man, and so what? Brett loved him. That was the important thing.

Jordan turned back to Iffy and said, “Why out so late? Don’t you have school in the morning?”

Brett glanced over at her, about to ask, “Why _are_ we out so late, then?” but before he could, Iffy said,

“Yeah, I do, but I have some more important stuff going on right now.” Her glance at Brett was subtle, but he could tell by the way Jordan’s eyes flicked over for a second before settling back on Iffy that the barista caught it. Justin bumped his wrist against Brett’s again. If only he could curl his hand around Justin’s, but there were so many people, and he didn’t know it was safe here. He didn’t come to this area much.

They all put in their orders and Justin insisted on paying, even though Iffy offered. Jordan plated Justin’s scone and Iffy’s cookie and handed them to her, and she turned around and passed them off to Justin. “Take this over?” she asked. “I’ll wait for the coffee and bring it over.”

Justin nodded and Brett half-raised his hand and smiled. There was only one table available and they managed to snag it just as another wave of people came in. Brett would have never expected a coffee shop to be so busy so late, but then, it was one of the only things open in the city, and the showgoers and insomniacs had to go somewhere. It was a little loud, but it was a blessing, because it meant nobody could overhear their conversation.

They looked at each other at the same time and simultaneously asked, “How are you?”

Justin laughed and lowered his head. Brett smiled tiredly. “You first,” he said.

“I’m okay, I guess,” Justin said. “I mean, like I keep saying, I knew this was going to happen eventually. I just wish Nora was closer. She’s always been my lifeline in the family and knowing she’s so far away makes this a lot harder than it would be otherwise.”

Brett placed his hand on the table beside Justin’s. He didn’t take his boyfriend’s hand, but he was so close he could feel the warmth of Justin’s knuckles against his.

“I’m sorry I can’t do anything to help,” Brett said. “But I’m here if you need to… do anything, really. I promise it won’t be like before. You can come over and we can stay in or go out or whatever you need. I love you.”

Justin looked up again with a small, grateful smile. His eyes were the same as they’d always been, but different, too. Tired. Resigned.

“Your turn,” he said. He broke off a corner of his scone and popped it in his mouth. Thankfully he didn’t offer to share.

“I just want Darcey to be okay,” Brett whispered. “I want _you_ to be okay. I love you both so much and I just want you to be safe and happy like you deserve.”

Justin gently knocked his knuckles against Brett’s. “ _You_ make me happy,” he said. “It’s my family that keeps fucking everything up.”

Brett looked up at the clink of cups on the table to see Iffy back with their drinks.

“Jordan said someone will be out with our hummus plate in a few minutes,” she said. She slid Brett’s and Justin’s cups over and sat down. “He also said it’s safe here. To be open, I mean.”

Justin wrapped his hand around Brett’s and when Brett exhaled, pounds and pounds of stress came out with it.

His phone was dead so it stayed in his pocket, but Iffy’s and Justin’s did, too, and there was no clock on the wall so he had no idea what time it was. The level of their drinks slowly lowered and the ice melted and their food disappeared bite by bite. People came and went all around them. Eventually, all of the showgoers -- mostly goth kids -- that had been hanging around filtered out, and the room was quiet, with just the low hum of the TV and a few laptops. He could even hear one guy’s music from his headphones in the corner. That’s when Justin finally pulled out his phone to check the time.

“Oh, shit,” he whispered.

Brett and Iffy looked over. “What?”

“It’s almost 2:00,” he chuckled.

“Oh, shit,” Iffy repeated. “I have class at eight. We’ve really got to get going.”

They gathered their plates and cups to leave in the dirty dish bin by the counter. Jordan was gone, so they didn’t say goodbye as they left, and nobody talked in the car. They dropped Iffy off first, and Brett was too tired to drive, so instead of going back to Justin’s for his car, his boyfriend took him back to his apartment. He’d have to take the bus to and from school tomorrow, but it was far better than crashing because he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He nearly fell asleep a few times, only jostled awake by the bump of potholes and broken asphalt.

Brett didn’t move right away when Justin pulled into a parking space near his unit. He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned into the bigger man, burying his face in his boyfriend’s shoulder. His favorite place in the world.

“Are you okay to get up by yourself?” Justin asked. “You look exhausted.”

“Yeah,” Brett murmured. “I’m going to hate myself for this in the morning. But I really needed it. Thank you, Justin.”

“Yeah,” Justin said. “Take care of yourself. Call me tomorrow and we’ll figure out your car, okay?”

Brett nodded. He didn’t move right away, but then he finally pushed himself up and when he tried to kiss Justin goodnight, their noses bumped. But Justin smiled. Brett tried again, kissing him for real.

“Goodnight,” he whispered.

“Night,” Justin said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The two minutes it took to get to the middle of his complex and up the stairs to his apartment felt like hours. When he got inside, he kicked off his flip flops and plugged in his phone, giving it a few seconds to connect before turning it back on. It beeped once. Twice. Three, four, five times. What the hell?

He grabbed his phone and scrolled through. Two new texts and three voicemails. Darcey. He didn’t even bother checking them. He called.

“Hey,” was all Darcey said when he picked up. His voice was resigned. Exhausted.

“Darcey? What happened? Are you okay? Were you hurt? Do you need me to --”

“Calm down,” Darcey said softly. “Breathe.”

Brett did.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again.

“I’m coming home.”

Brett was suddenly hopeful and terrified to be so. “Like… for good?”

“For good.”

“What… how?”

“General discharge under dishonorable circumstances,” Darcey said. “Under DADT. I told. I’m coming home. I’m going to be in at 7:00 a.m. Can you pick me up? I know it’s early and clearly you’re up pretty late so I can catch a cab, but --”

“I’ll be there,” Brett said. He’d skip class. He’d send his instructors an email when he got off the phone to explain.

He was so tired and his emotions were doing so many things that he didn’t understand and he couldn’t process anything. And then, suddenly, he was crying, and Darcey was comforting him with calm, gentle reassurances and quiet, soothing words, and it was the wrong way around, because Brett should have been comforting _him_. But Brett was so, so relieved that Darcey was safe, that he was coming back, that he was alive and well and they were going to see each other in the morning that he couldn’t help it.

“It’s okay,” Darcey soothed. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” Brett whispered.


	27. Chapter 27

The days turned into weeks, as they will. The weeks became months. Things were a little crazy while Darcey settled in, but once he did, Brett started to smile more and laugh easier and his movements became a little looser. While Justin was so grateful that things had worked out, he was also jealous, because where Darcey’s coming-out was met with nothing but support from his family, Justin’s still wasn’t talking to him. He hadn’t heard from his mother again in all that time. He talked to Nora regularly, but she’d decided it would be better -- and safer, for both of them -- if she didn’t talk to their parents anymore, either. So while Brett’s family was coming together, Justin’s had fallen apart, and he hated himself for being so jealous. Their situations were completely different, and Justin needed completely different things to happen for his problems to resolve, and those things _weren’t_ going to happen. He needed to accept that his life sucked and get over it, and at least celebrate Brett’s good fortune.

It was the middle of September and Brett had had a string of auditions, almost one a day for the past two weeks, but no luck. He was good, he always said, but everyone else was just better. This time his audition was for Waiting For Godot, which would be difficult, because there were so few parts. But those were the kinds of plays Brett seemed to like best -- short, funny, philosophical, with small casts.

Justin wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sit in, but he came on the off-chance that those in charge would allow it. He’d never seen Brett in action, and hopefully today he’d get that chance. Regardless, he was going to stay and wait and they were going to go out for coffee afterward.

The audition was in Old Town Glendale, a small, cozy area with a lot of tiny shops and restaurants, many made from small, repurposed houses. The building where Justin was meeting Brett was so small he nearly missed the turn. It was squat and unassuming, clearly not meant for actual performance. Was the play being held here or was it just for auditions?

Justin approached the front door, but hesitated. Should he knock? He decided to try the door first. It opened.

It led to a small hallway with three doors to his left, two on his right. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Brett.

_which room are you going to be in?_

He stood there awkwardly while he waited for a reply, looking around for an office, or even just another person to ask. Were they all inside? Maybe one was a waiting room and another was for auditions?

_Room B. Second on the right. I’m the crazy one pacing and muttering to myself in the corner._

Justin didn’t ask.

He also didn’t knock. He let himself in. It wasn’t a big room, so it was crowded, but he could see Brett over in the corner where he said he’d be. He was gesturing and his lips were moving. Practicing?

As Justin approached, he raised his hand to catch Brett’s attention, about to call out his name. His mouth opened. Nothing came out.

Something was wrong. Brett’s eyebrows were drawn tight and his jaw was set hard. His movements were quick, sharp, _angry_. Everything from the flick of his hands to the twitch of his shoulders screamed stress. Justin knew he’d been under a lot of pressure, but --

“Brett?” he finally asked softly.

Brett whirled around, suddenly a completely different person. Every muscle relaxed at once and he grinned like nothing was ever wrong, and that’s when Justin realized, it _wasn’t_.

He was just practicing his monologue.

“Holy shit,” Justin whispered.

Brett’s brow drew down again. He slowly lowered his hands, but then paused, leaving them hanging awkwardly between them. “What?” he murmured.

Justin’s face relaxed and a smile slowly crossed his lips. “Brett, you’re fucking _amazing_.”

Brett laughed. “You haven’t even seen me do anything yet!” he protested, but his face was bright and pleased.

“No, Justin pressed. “When I saw you pacing when I walked in I thought you were legitimately upset and, like, yelling at yourself about something. I don’t know what monologue you’re performing, but --“

“It’s a bit from The Glass Menagerie,” Brett said. “I know it’s… it’s a popular play, and they’ve probably seen it before, so it’s risky. But if I can make it into something new, something they _haven’t_ seen, even if they’ve heard the words, then it’ll land me a part for sure.”

“What’s it about?” Justin asked. They’d relocated to the back corner, and while they were nowhere close to being alone, at least they had a little breathing room and they could drop their voices for a more private conversation. Brett glanced up at the clock behind Justin.

“It’s about a man who --”

The door opened and a woman with a clipboard popped her head in.

“Brett Walker?” she called.

“That’s me!” Brett’s grin was wide and confident. Did he get stage fright? Justin realized the only time he’d ever see his boyfriend unsure was when they were having problems with their relationship. He was so confident the rest of the time.

Justin followed him to the door. Brett asked the woman, “Can my, uh, can my friend come back and watch the audition?”

“I’m sorry, no,” she said. “Just you, please.”

Brett turned around and said, “I’ll perform it for you later, okay?”

And he was out the door and gone.

At first, Justin stayed in the waiting room, but it was so small and there were so many people, eventually he started feeling cramped and had to leave. He wasn’t sure which door Brett was behind, so he walked across the hallway and leaned against the wall with the two doors, one on either side and the three across from him, all in his sight. He wanted to know _right away_ what they had to say about Brett’s performance.

He fiddled with his phone a while, then started to text Nate, _we might be going over to brett’s for a while, i didn’t get to see his_

Before he could finish, a crash came from inside one of the rooms.

“Are you okay, sir?” It was the woman’s voice from earlier.

 _Sir?_ The people holding the auditions wouldn’t refer to each other so formally.

Brett?

Justin knocked at the door. Nobody answered. Thumping and shuffling came from the other side. A man shouting, “Deandra, call 911!”

Justin shoved the door open and froze, but only for a moment. Brett was on the floor, on his side, leaning on his elbows with his head angled down, but he was awake.

“Brett?” he called. He rushed past the woman on the phone and crouched down, gently moving Brett’s chin so he could see his boyfriend’s face.

“What happened?” he asked. His words were short and clipped, breathless with panic.

“’M fine,” Brett muttered, but his words were a little slurred and it looked like he was using all his energy to keep from collapsing back to the floor.

“He fell,” said the woman who had called him in. She and a man were both on his other side, hovering uncertainly, trying to decide if they should move him.

“Did he hit his head?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “He went down on his shoulder and when he hit the floor I think it woke him up and he sort of rolled to his side.”

“The ambulance is on its way,” the woman on the phone said. Deandra?

“Brett, Brett, talk to me. What happened?”

Brett let Justin nudge his face up this time, his boyfriend’s big hand on his narrow cheek. Dark circles ringed his eyes. The way the shadows in the room fell highlighted the hollowness in his cheeks, the sharpness of his nose, his sharp shoulders under his sleeves.

“I…” Brett finally said. “I’m not sure. I think I fell?”

Justin looked up at the man and woman behind Brett, his eyes wide and questioning and a little bit wild. The man nodded.

“Did you trip?”

“No, I just…”

“Did you faint?”

Brett turned his head back down and started to push himself up. His hand slipped on the hardwood and he collapsed onto the stage.

Justin hovered over him uncertainly. The door slammed open behind him and he turned to see two paramedics running in with a stretcher. It took moments. They had him on the board and in a collar and rolling out the door while Justin still kneeled on the floor.

He jumped up and chased after them, calling out a hurried, “Thank you for your help,” over his shoulder.

* * *

 

Justin sat in the waiting room while Brett was shuffled around the hospital and the ER for exams and checks and tests. It had been about an hour when he finally remembered that he’d been texting Nate earlier when Brett fell. He lowered his hands from his mouth and pulled out his cell phone.

_i might be home late or not at all. brett fainted at the audition. i might stay with him, or he might come home with me. i don’t know anything yet, he’s still in the er._

Justin leaned back in the chair, his neck loose but his shoulders and back painfully tight. His phone went off.

_Oh my gods! Is he okay? Like, I know you don’t know anything but he’ll be okay when he’s done, right?_

_i don’t know. he was slurring what little he talked. they said he didn’t hit his head, but i don’t know. i’m sure they’re going to run a catscan and stuff._

Nate texted back immediately.

_Well, let me know when you hear anything. I’m out of work in an hour, so I can be anywhere you need me after that._

Justin dropped his phone into his lap and twisted his neck to look to one side, then the other. The waiting room was mostly empty. A small family with a sick child sat in one corner, and scattered around were people sniffling and coughing, but all the real emergencies had been taken back already.

Including Brett.

Justin sat back up again and looked at the clock.

Three minutes had passed since the last time he checked.

***

It took hours, but finally, a tech wheeled Brett out of the ER doors and up to the window to figure out his insurance information. He stayed seated in the wheelchair, leaning forward to the window to speak with the employee. Justin rushed over, approaching him from behind. He didn’t say anything or even touch Brett immediately, wanting to be sure everything was taken care of without any trouble. Finally, they got it sorted out and Brett looked up and smiled weakly.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey,” Justin whispered. “You okay?”

“I will be. I just need some rest. No concussion.” His speech had cleared up and gone back to normal. “They said the slurring was likely just because I wasn’t fully conscious yet.” He rubbed at his left shoulder and flinched. “My shoulder’s pretty bruised up, though. They said I was lucky in didn’t break it.”

“Do you need help getting out to your car?” the tech asked.

“I’ve got him,” Justin said. “I’ll bring the wheelchair back.”

She smiled. “Thank you, sir. Just leave it by the wall and someone will come to collect it.”

Brett leaned back against the handle and Justin’s hand. His curly hair was wild and unkempt and a little more wiry than usual, but he’d been shuffled around so much, Justin wasn’t surprised.

Once they got outside and around the corner, Justin kissed the top of Brett’s head and whispered, “I love you so fucking much.”

Brett reached over his shoulder to take Justin’s hand. “I’m okay,” he said.

“Do they know why you fainted?”

“Probably this flu thing.”

“Are they sure it’s flu? You’ve had it almost two months now and medication hasn’t seemed to touch it.”

Brett shrugged. He paused. “Don’t tell Darcey, okay?”

“Why?”

“Just don’t, please.”

Justin dropped it.

They made the ride back to Justin’s house in quiet. Brett slept for most of the trip, leaving Justin alone with his thoughts.

If he lost Brett, he didn’t know what he’d do. What was _wrong_? How could they get him better?

He woke his boyfriend up when they pulled into the garage and Brett stumbled out of the car. Justin helped him into the house and into his bed, where he pulled off his shoes and went straight back to sleep. Justin sat beside him for a while, gently brushing his boyfriend’s hair with his fingers.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

But, of course, Brett’s only answer was the soft, slow inhale and exhale of his breath.

He didn’t know how much time passed, but eventually Justin’s back started to cramp, so he relocated to his desk chair and booted his computer up. He sighed sadly when Nora wasn’t online. So he checked his email, read some webcomics, checked up on the news. Then a name he didn’t recognize popped up on his screen.

_Do you want to accept a message from SincerelyMe?_

Justin frowned, but clicked ‘yes’. He didn’t make his screenname public, so it must have been someone he’d given it to and forgotten about.

 

 **SincerelyMe** : Justin. It’s Darcey. Iffy gave me your contact information. Is Brett with you?

 

Oh, Darcey!

 

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : He is, yeah. He has been most of the day. Did he tell you what happened?

 **SincerelyMe** : What? No, what happened?

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : He didn’t text you?

 **SincerelyMe** : No. I’ve been trying to contact him all day but he’s not responding to anything I send him.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Really? That’s weird.

 **SincerelyMe** : Why?

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Well, he’s always talking about you. You’re like his best friend. And I haven’t heard his phone go off since we’ve been together. It’s weird he’d be ignoring you.

 

Justin frowned. If Darcey _had_ been contacting Brett, why wouldn’t he respond? Was there a problem with his phone, maybe? He _wouldn’t_ be ignoring Darcey, not after everything that had happened.

 

 **SincerelyMe** : Have you seen him recently? In the past week or so?

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Just once until today.

 **SincerelyMe** : Yeah, what happened?

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : I don’t know what to say. He asked me not to tell you. I assumed because he wanted to tell you himself once everything checked out.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : **DominatedLoveSlave** : I think he might be getting sick again.

 **SincerelyMe** : What do you mean? Sick how?

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Just really tired. He got this crazy flu thing not long before you came back the first time and never really recovered. He doesn’t eat much and he’s really weak all the time.

 **SincerelyMe** : I need your help.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : ?

 **SincerelyMe** : Brett’s in trouble. He’s really sick.

 

Justin’s heart stuttered in his chest and his breath caught. This _was_ more than flu, wasn’t it?

 

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : So he is sick? What’s happening? What can I do?

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Does he have anemia or something?? Is that why he’s so tired all the time now?

 **SincerelyMe** : When he was younger he struggled with anorexia for about two years.

 **SincerelyMe** : I’m pretty sure he’s going into a relapse.

 

Justin gasped and slapped his hand over his mouth to quiet himself so he wouldn’t wake Brett. Oh God. Oh God. It all made sense now. His weight loss, the way he cut out sugar so suddenly, why he never wanted to go out to lunch or dinner anymore. Justin realized he hadn’t seen Brett eat since the night they got back from San Francisco.

 

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Oh my God. He never told me. Fuck, I can’t believe I didn’t put it together. Oh God I’m so stupid. That makes sense why he fell today.

 **SincerelyMe** : He fell? Did he faint?

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Yeah.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : What do I do? Does he have a therapist? Should I get him one? Does he need rehab?

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : I don’t care what it is or how much it costs, I’ll make it happen. I’ll get him whatever he needs.

 **SincerelyMe** : Last time, from what I understand, he had a long term one-on-one therapist. I think he went to an outpatient group for a while. That was mostly for immediate intervention.

 **SincerelyMe** : I don’t know a lot about it. He keeps it pretty close.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Understandably. I don’t blame him. If I were in the same place, I would, too.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : How long has this been going on?

 **SincerelyMe** : I don’t know. At least a week. It might be longer.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Okay. Do you remember how to get to my house?

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : I feel like you being here in person would be better than trying to do phone calls.

 **SincerelyMe** : Yeah, I can get there.

 **SincerelyMe** : On my way.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Thank you for telling me, Darcey. I’ll do everything I can to help.

 **SincerelyMe** : I’m glad he found you.

 **SincerelyMe** : Be good to him.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : Of course. I love him. I’d do anything to keep him happy and safe.

 **DominatedLoveSlave** : I’ll see you soon.

 _SincerelyMe has logged off_.

 

Justin didn’t waste time closing the window. He turned around and stood, about to make his way to the bed to wake Brett up. He froze. How should he go about this? It was an _extremely_ delicate situation and he didn’t want to make it worse.

Brett shifted, pulled the sheet closer around his shoulders, and stilled again. Justin swallowed. He had to confront Brett, for his own health and safety.

Finally, he sat down on the edge of the bed beside his boyfriend. His hand hesitated, hovering in the air above Brett’s shoulder, but then he dropped it, gently shaking him.

“Brett,” he whispered.

Brett mumbled something, but didn’t wake.

“Brett.” Justin shook Brett’s shoulder a little harder. Brett frowned and his brow furrowed, and after a moment, he opened his eyes.

“Justin?” he murmured. “Is everything okay?”

“We need to talk.”

Brett’s breath caught and he froze. “What?”

“I just finished talking to Darcey,” Justin said. “He’s on his way over.”

“Why?” Brett shot up, pushing himself into the corner.

“We’re staging an intervention.” Justin swallowed hard, trying to get some moisture back in his cotton-dry mouth.

“What do you mean?” Brett’s voice was soft and shaky. Terrified.

“Darcey told me, Brett. About your eating problems.”

Brett opened his mouth. Closed it again. He buried his face in his hands and his shoulders started to shake. Oh, God, was he _crying_?

“Brett,” Justin whispered. “It’s… it’ll _be_ okay. I’ll help you, I’ll --”

“I don’t need help.” Brett’s words were muffled by his hands. The joints of his knuckles almost popped out of his fingers in the dim light.

“Brett,” Justin whispered. They were both still and silent for a very long time. Then Justin finally gently took Brett’s wrists in his hands and lowered them from his face. Brett’s eyes were glassy and his face was red and a little puffy, despite how thin he was. “I mean, just… look at yourself. You’re so sick. You --”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Brett repeated. The tears started to overflow. “I’m fine.” He sobbed once, thick and heavy. Justin pulled him into a hug, resting his cheek on top of Brett’s curly hair. Brett wrapped his arms around Justin’s back, his fingers loose in his boyfriend’s shirt, and whispered, “It hurts so much, all the time.”

“Let me help you,” Justin said. “Come on, let’s go out into the living room and wait for Darcey, okay?”


	28. Chapter 28

Brett and Justin had relocated to the living room couch when the knock came at the door. Brett flinched at the sharp noise in the quiet room. Justin kissed his temple and Brett closed his eyes as Justin stood to answer the door.

Brett didn’t look up when Darcey sat down beside him. His hands were curled in tight, fingers digging into the fabric of his jeans at the knees. His wrists and arms were hard, his neck tense, his mouth pressed in a thin, angry line. He wasn’t angry with Justin -- his boyfriend hadn’t gone fishing for the information. Darcey had willingly volunteered it. He’d told Justin Brett’s only secret, the one thing he trusted his family to keep within his family, his shame. And now Justin knew, and even though he said he wanted to help, Brett knew as soon as he realized how much work it would take, he would leave.

“Why did you tell him,” he demanded.

“I’m sorry,” Darcey whispered back. Brett turned his head away, refusing to look at him. “I didn't know what else to do. You just disappeared. I couldn't find you and he was the only person I could think of to contact. I was so worried something had happened and Justin's the only other person I know who sees you on a regular basis.”

“I don’t need help.” He tried to force anger out in his voice, anything to hide his fear. He kept his voice soft so it wouldn’t shake. “I’m _fine_.”

“No you’re _not,_ ” Darcey argued. Brett’s hands clenched tighter on his jeans and his jaw tensed. Darcey refused to seek help for his PTSD and then had the nerve to turn around and tell him what to do? It wasn’t even a _problem_. It hurt, yes, but he’d known it would. He knew what he was getting into. He was smart, he was careful, he was --

“You’re making yourself sick,” Darcey finished.

The couch shifted when Justin sat down on Brett’s other side. He took one of Brett’s hands, and Brett instinctively started to pull away. But Justin’s fingers tightened, just barely, and Brett stilled, curling his fingers back around Justin’s.

Brett’s eyes were locked on the floor between his feet. Justin whispered his name, but he didn't respond. His eyes were closed, teeth clenched tight. The sharp line of his jaw flashed bright under the light of the living room.

“Brett,” Justin whispered again. “Talk to me. Please. Let me help you.” He closed his eyes and his fingers tightened around Brett's. His voice broke when he spoke again. “Brett, please. I love you so much. I'll do anything. Just tell me what you need. I'll make it happen. Please.”

“I don’t need anything.” Brett’s voice was light but it cracked hard on the last syllable. His voice was thick and sticky with the tears that started to gather on his eyelashes, pressed hard into his cheeks. “There’s nothing wrong. I’m _fine_. I …” But he trailed off, and everything suddenly got quieter, and dimmer, and …

Darcey pushed Brett back against the couch and his eyelashes fluttered open.

“What --”

Then Justin was in front of him, holding his face in both hands. His boyfriend’s eyes darted over his face, his body. What? Did he white out?

“Brett, can you hear me?” Justin’s voice was strained, almost scared.

“Mm-hm,” Brett mumbled. Justin pressed their foreheads together and Darcey stood, walking away to somewhere else, thank God, because suddenly, Brett cracked and all the pain, all the isolation, all the fear, coursed out of his body like a reservoir behind a broken dam, and he cried. Justin sat back on the couch and gathered Brett into his arms, holding him gently, as if he might break. And he very well might. He was so tired, and so lost, and just _existing_ hurt so much.

“I’m sorry,” Brett sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Justin hushed him gently and whispered, “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay now. We’ll get you better.”

Brett flinched when Darcey’s ringtone echoed through the quiet room. It stopped abruptly, but Darcey wasn’t speaking. Did he shut it off?

Darcey sat down beside them, but Brett didn’t crawl out of Justin’s lap. He kept his nose pressed into Justin’s shoulder so tight it almost hurt, but he needed to be close, he was terrified of what would happen if Justin let go.

“Hey,” Darcey murmured. Brett ignored him. The logical part of his head told him his cousin was just trying to help the only way he knew how, but the emotional part was still in charge, and Brett was scared and he was still _furious_ , still certain Justin would leave as soon as he realized just how deeply his problems went. Darcey’s big, callused, scarred hand rested on his forearm, gentle, hesitant. Finally, Brett rolled off Justin’s lap to sit between him and Darcey. Darcey moved his hand to his cousin’s knee, loose, trying to be comforting, but it just made him even angrier. His whole body was tight, every muscle coiled like a cinched spring.

“I brought you something,” Darcey murmured. Brett’s breath caught and he looked up.

“What --”

“Just apples.” Oh God, Darcey was going to try to make him eat? Not just eat, but in front of _people_? Justin already knew he was sick and terrible, he didn’t need to know he was _disgusting_ , too.

Darcey was still talking, but Brett didn’t quite process it, staring into the bowl like it was full of scorpions instead of fruit. He snapped back into the conversation when Darcey asked,

“You had a therapist last time, right?”

Brett nodded, but didn’t speak, eyes still trained fearfully on the bowl.

“We could call them. I know it's been a while but they're probably still in practice. We don't even have to tell your dad, if you remember their name we could probably track them down online –”

“ _Shut up_ , Darcey.” Brett’s voice was soft and it broke in the middle, but it was the harshest he’d spoken to his cousin in years. Even Justin flinched. Darcey’s mouth snapped shut. Brett’s whole body was coiled, like it was ready to explode, and he whirled on Darcey and yelled, “ _You_ of _all_ people have no right to tell me I need help! You’ve been completely ignoring all of your problems for years! Who are you to tell me how to deal with mine?”

Darcey’s eyes were wide, almost fearful. His mouth was slightly open, his breath coming in quick and nervous inhales. His whole body was tight, like he was preparing to either fight or run. All the blood drained from Brett’s body and he leaned back slightly.

Brett dropped his head to Darcey’s chest and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Darcey. I… fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Justin rested his hand on Brett’s back between his shoulders, firm, supporting, as if he might collapse at any moment. He might not be wrong.

“I --“ Darcey’s voice caught. He turned and coughed it out into his shoulder. “No, you’re right.”

Brett relaxed, but only a little. Justin curled his fingers in on his shirt and the skin underneath, scratching gently, but even that pressure against the bottom of his shoulder blades hurt. But he didn’t tell Justin to stop. He needed the contact.

“I --”

Brett flinched at the catch in Darcey’s voice. They turned away from each other.

“No, you’re right,” Darcey said. His shoulders slumped. Brett’s whole body tensed. He _was_ right, wasn’t he? And that applied to himself, too. This whole time he’d been ignoring it, letting it happen. Letting it creep in back in the beginning was the biggest mistake of his life. He could have _avoided_ all of this if he’d asked for help before he let it become a problem.

Brett looked up when Darcey repeated, “You’re right.” His voice was still cracking. “You’re right, Brett, and I’m sorry.” He paused for a moment. “If you agree to see a therapist, the second my paperwork is approved, I’ll set one up, too. No arguments. No excuses. The paperwork comes in and I make the call the same day.”

Brett flinched. Darcey needed help with his PTSD. At _least_ he needed to get an official diagnosis so he could finally start to seek treatment. Brett didn’t know how bad it was -- Darcey never talked about it -- but if his day-to-day life was anything like the situation in the car when he’d first come back to visit…

“All right,” Brett whispered. He turned toward Justin with a heavy, tired sigh. “Can you get your laptop? Her name was Stephanie Lamb. I don’t remember the name of her practice. Hopefully her name is uncommon enough that we can track her down.”


	29. Chapter 29

It took about an hour to find the information for Brett’s therapist, and by the time they did, the office was closed, so they took down the information so he could call in the morning. Darcey was just hugging Brett on his way out the door when Justin’s phone rang. His eyes were on Brett. He didn’t check the call ID.

“Hello?”

“Justin! I’m glad you answered.”

Justin’s shoulders slumped. Darcey let go of Brett and waved. Justin waved back.

“Hi, Susan.”

“Justin, I know we’ve hurt you, and I’m sorry, but I really wish you wouldn’t call me that.” Her voice was soft and hurt. Justin grit his teeth, but only said,

“Okay, Mom.”

They went silent. Brett collapsed onto the couch beside him, sprawling out and resting his head in Justin’s lap. Justin absently started stroking his fingers through this hair.

“So, what’s going on?” Justin asked.

“I was wondering if you wanted to get together for lunch tomorrow? My treat!”

Justin hesitated. “What does Paul think about that?” he finally asked. Brett opened his eyes. His face was concerned. He furrowed his brow and mouthed, _What’s going on?_

Justin held up a finger, then put his hand back on Brett’s head.

“He doesn’t know,” Susan said. “I know I should to ask his permission, but --”

“Mom, no, that’s not what I meant. You can do whatever you want. You’re an adult. You don’t have to get his permission for anything. I just meant… I was just wondering if he’d changed his mind at all.”

Her heavy silence was all the answer Justin needed. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand and whispered to Brett, “My mom wants me to go out to lunch with her tomorrow. I really need to try to patch things up, if only for Nora’s sake. Will you be okay alone?”

“Maybe you can drop me off at Darcey’s on your way? Where are you going?”

“I don’t know yet, but I can do that.”

“I’ll give him a text and let him know. My phone’s in your room, so I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

“Justin? Are you still there?” Susan asked.

Justin turned back to the phone. “Yeah. Where did you want to meet tomorrow?”

* * *

 

Justin wasn’t familiar with the restaurant where he was going to meet Susan, but it was about halfway between them in an area easy enough to navigate. Justin had looked it up to be sure he could eat there, and for once, his mother finally hadn’t led him wrong -- it was entirely vegan. He was surprised he hadn’t heard of it, but it _was_ relatively new.

Susan was sitting at a table by the window when he arrived. He sat down across from her with a soft, “Hey.”

She looked up from her book. “Hi, sweetie!” But she didn’t move to try to hug him. She pulled her purse out from under her chair and handed him forty dollars.

“You order at the counter,” she said. “This should cover it. Get whatever you want. Get me the minestrone soup, please?”

“Sure, Su -- Mom.” If she was trying, he had to try too, right?

The restaurant was nearly empty so the food came out fast, and they ate in an awkward semi-silence occasionally broken by small talk or a comment about the food.

“Justin, is something wrong?” Susan finally asked. She finished off the last of her soup. Justin was barely a quarter of the way through his pasta. He glanced up at the question, trying not to look incredulous. _Is she seriously asking me this_?

He looked back down at his noodles without saying anything.

“Justin? You seem sad.”

Justin sighed heavily and frowned, rubbing hard at his forehead.

“Sweetie, what --“

“My father’s disowned me and my boyfriend is one meal away from ending up in the hospital,” he finally snapped. “And I haven’t talked to my sister in a month and she’s the only one who knows how to keep me from going crazy.”

Susan frowned. “Your... sister?”

Justin froze, but managed to keep his expression the same. “I mean Noah. I mean… you know what I mean. I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping well. I’ve been fucking up my words all over the --“

“Justin! You can’t use that kind of language in public!”

“Sorry.”

Justin held his breath. Susan didn’t push it. She took his explanation at face value. Thank God. If he outed Nora and put her through what he’d been put through, he’d never forgive himself.

All she said was, “Try to watch your language.”

Justin rolled his eyes, but Susan caught it and frowned. She huffed a little annoyed cough, but didn’t call him on it. He continued to eat in silence while she sat across from him awkwardly, looking around the restaurant at the paintings on the walls and the open kitchen behind the order counter, and finally, when Justin was about halfway through his food, he asked,

“So, is Paul --”

“You mean _Dad_?” Susan corrected tersely.

Justin didn’t respond immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was hard. “I meant what I said.”

“I just think it’s disrespectful,” she said.

“You think _that’s_ disrespectful,” he said. “But what Paul’s doing is just fine?”

“I didn’t say that! I’m trying to --”

“You’re doing everything you can to excuse his behavior by promising he’s going to change when he won’t,” Justin said. He stood. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get a lid for this. I’m not hungry anymore.”

They left and parted ways without so much as a hug not long after. They shared an awkward, stilted “goodbye,” and went to their cars. Justin had intentionally parked on the opposite side of the lot so they wouldn’t have to walk back together.

As he pulled out, he checked his rearview mirror for Susan’s car. He didn’t _really_ think she would follow him home, but after the conversation he’d had with her last month, he was paranoid.

Nate was in the living room when Justin walked in the door. He waved. Justin half-heartedly waved back and said, “I’m in a really bad fucking mood right now and I don’t want to snap at you right now because you don’t deserve it, so I’m just going to go sit by myself in my room for a while until I’m calm again.”

Nate blinked at the sudden outpouring of emotion, then finally nodded and signed slowly, _Okay. I’ll be here if you want to talk._

Justin turned away and went to his room, slamming the door closed behind him. It felt _good_. He opened it and slammed it again, then sat down at his computer. He needed to warn Nora of his stupid slipup. He didn’t think anything would come of it, but she needed to know, just in case.

 

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Hey, Nora. I see you’re online. You at your computer?

 

It took a few minutes, but she finally responded.

 

**AreYouThereGod** : I am now! What’s up? It’s been a while!

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I’m losing my shit over here, Nora. I’m sorry recently I only talk to you when I’m upset.

**AreYouThereGod** : What are big sisters for? :) My life’s been super boring anyway, so I wouldn’t really have much to say.

**AreYouThereGod** : What’s wrong?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I went out to lunch with Susan today.

**AreYouThereGod** : Ugh, why?

**AreYouThereGod** : Also, you’re calling them by their first names now?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I have been for a while, with my friends at least. I kind of slip back and forth depending on whether I’m feeling resilient or beaten up that day.

**AreYouThereGod** : I didn’t think a single sentence could ever make me so sad.

**DomintedLoveSlave** : Whatever. The point is, Susan wanted to take me out for lunch and we didn’t talk about anything even when she kept prodding me because she knew something was wrong.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Also

**DominatedLoveSlave** : And I’m so, so sorry about this

**AreYouThereGod** : ?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I assume she believed me when I said I just slipped up because I’m tired, but I accidentally called you my sister.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I immediately “corrected” myself, but, like I said, I don’t think she thought anything of it.

**AreYouThereGod** : WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS

**AreYouThereGod** : JUSTIN

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Okay you are more than right to be mad at me, but just think about it like this.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I don’t think Susan and Paul even know what transgender means, much less recognize it as a concept.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : We both know they won’t recognize you for who you are, right?

**AreYouThereGod** : Jesus Christ, Justin, why do you have to put it like that?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I’m sorry. I just keep making this worse. Fuck, I’m sorry, Nora. I’m so tired, I haven’t been sleeping well again and Brett’s been really, really sick so I’ve been really distracted with that.

**DominatedLoveSlave** I know that’s not an excuse but

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Fuck, I’m sorry.

 

Justin groaned and dropped his head into his hands. He took in a shuddering, shallow breath a little too sharply and coughed it back out.

 

**AreYouThereGod** : Okay, I know you’re still learning about trans issues, so I’ll let that comment slide on the condition that you THINK before you say things from now on.

**AreYouThereGod** : Justin, I love you, but seriously, you’ve GOT to use your brain. I know you have one in there.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Sorry. Is “They won’t accept you” a better way to phrase it?

**AreYouThereGod** : Much.

**AreYouThereGod** : So what exactly did you say?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I said I haven’t talked to my sister in a month.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Susan said, “Sister?” So I said, “Noah. You know what I mean. I’m tired and I’m screwing up my words all over the place.” Or something. I don’t remember what exactly, but it was like that.

**AreYouThereGod** : And?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : And… nothing. She didn’t push, she didn’t ask me what I meant or why I said it. I really, truly believe she thinks it was just a tongue slip.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I just wanted you to know on the, like, 0.001% off chance she thought deeper into it. But I really think she won’t.

**AreYouThereGod** : Okay.

**AreYouThereGod** : Well, at least we know I’m safe. Paul’s not going to drive all the way to California just to punch me.

**AreYouThereGod** : I can see why you call him that. It’s really freeing.

 

Justin’s shoulders relaxed and he smiled slightly. He let out a soft, relieved sigh. She wasn’t going to stay mad at him. He was lucky Nora was so understanding.

 

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Yeah. It’s been years since I’ve seen a therapist, but she suggested that to me. She said it can help relieve some of the pressures they put on you and get you out of their control. I didn’t really start taking that advice until recently, but for me, at least, that’s been true.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Susan HATES it though. She thinks it’s disrespectful.

**AreYouThereGod** : To Hell with Susan. Maybe people would be more respectful to her if she was more respectful to them.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Yeah. She’s trying, though.

**AreYouThereGod** : Justin, the conversion therapy was HER IDEA.

 

Justin bit his lip. Nora was right. Susan was trying, but if she’d had it her way, he would have gone into a therapy that would have irreparably damaged him. He didn’t like himself all the time, but at least he was mostly a decent person, and he would have been someone completely different if he’d gone through something as traumatizing as that.

 

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Yeah.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I’ve got to go.

**AreYouThereGod** : Are you okay? Oh, no, did I upset you? Justin, I’m sorry!

**DominatedLoveSlave** : No, no. I’m okay. It’s just, I just got home and when I did I blew through the living room screaming and I want Nate to know everything’s okay.

**AreYouThereGod** : Okay. Are you sure?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I’m sure.

**DominatedLoveSlave** : I do need to ask you one more thing before I go, though.

**AreYouThereGod** : Of course! What’s up?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : It’s Brett.

 

Justin hesitated before typing anything more. Brett obviously didn’t want people to know about it. His reaction toward Darcey had been so verbally violent, what would he do if he knew Justin had told Nora? But he was at a loss. Maybe he could get in touch with Darcey instead?

Yeah. He’d do that.

 

**AreYouThereGod** : Is he okay?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Yeah. Never mind. He probably wouldn’t want me blabbing all over the place about it.

**AreYouThereGod** : Hmmm.

**AreYouThereGod** : Well, okay. I can’t make you tell me anything, and I don’t want to violate Brett’s privacy. But I’m here if you change your minds, okay?

**DominatedLoveSlave** : Thank you, Nora.

 

He logged off. He took a deep, shaky breath. He let it out again. He stood, and went back into the living room to apologize to Nate.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, friends, we are nearing the end! After this, just one more chapter and an epilogue to go! I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has left a comment (some of you more than one), and I want you to know I'm grateful for and have read every single one, multiple times. I'm sorry if I never responded to you one on one; if that's the case, it's not you at all, it's just the fact that all I could think of to say was 'thank you.'
> 
> Anyway, here we go!

The drive to Brett’s therapist was quiet, but not the awkward, tense quiet Brett had been expecting. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it wasn’t heavy or repressive. It left the invitation for either of them to talk whenever they felt ready.

“How do you feel?” Justin finally asked.

“I’m so tired,” Brett whispered. “Everything hurts.”

“Have you eaten since last night?”

Brett shook his head and looked away. The stone in his gut sank a little deeper.

“Okay. Don’t feel guilty. We’re working on it, right?” Justin said.

Brett chuckled nervously. “I guess.”

The office was clinical and sterile, white and blue and chrome, like a doctor’s office rather than a therapist’s. Darcey was already there, sitting in the corner.

“Do you want me to go to the desk with you?” Justin asked.

Brett shook his head. “Thank you, though.” He gently nudged Justin’s hip with his sharp wrist. “Go sit with Darcey? I’ll be over in a minute.”

Justin did as Brett asked him. The office was foreign and familiar at the same time. Brett remembered this color scheme, these uncomfortable chairs, the smells of glass cleaner and lemon furniture polish.

Since he’d moved since the last time he’d been there, Brett had to fill out some paperwork, but it was mostly as simple and straightforward as he remembered. He gave it back, paid his copay, and sat down beside Justin to wait.

Nobody spoke. Darcey sat curled up on himself with his elbows on his knees and Justin wrapped his arm around Brett’s waist. Brett leaned against his shoulder, and he was nearly asleep a few minutes later when a voice he’d never forget said,

“Brett?”

Brett’s eyes opened. He didn’t move at first. Finally, he sat up and Justin let his arm fall away.

He didn’t meet Stephanie’s eyes when he approached her, his head angled toward the floor.

“Right back this way,” she said. Did she even remember him? Hopefully she didn’t. Then she couldn’t be disappointed.

The chairs in her office were much more comfortable, black against dark blue carpet and cream-colored walls. She’d changed it since he was last here. The desk was on the other side of the room and the little knick-knacks around the shelves and table had changed, little cloth dolls and animals instead of the rabbit statues that had been there before.

“It’s been a long time, Brett,” she said.

Brett finally looked up. She was smiling softly, but her eyes were concerned.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“You look tired,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“What’s going on?”

Brett was silent for a few minutes. Stephanie didn’t push. When he finally spoke, it was rushed and high-pitched and shaky and even a little panicked.

“I’m relapsing. I haven’t eaten more than a third of an apple a day for weeks. I haven’t eaten anything at all in the past two days. I’ve been obsessing over my weight since the nurse at the doctors office told me I need to lose ten pounds.”

Stephanie closed her eyes and hissed softly. Brett looked down again.

“I’m sorry,” he choked.

“No, no, Brett, please don’t apologize to me,” she said. “I’m sorry. That was unprofessional. I just can’t believe a nurse would tell you you need to lose weight.”

“Well, I was almost forty pounds heavier then,” he said.

Stephanie’s eyes went wide, but she quickly gained control of her face again. “As soon as we’re done for today, I want you to call your primary,” she said. “Preferably the one you were seeing last time, if you can. You need to get some bloodwork done and get physically checked out so we can best see what kind of eating plan to put you on and if you need any supplements. You very well might. You’ve lost a lot of nutrients in that time.”

Brett nodded, eyes still on Stephanie’s black ballet flats.

“In the meantime, do you have any safe foods? Are they the same as last time, or have they changed?”

“I’m okay with apples,” he said. “And hummus in small amounts, as long as it’s with either carrots or celery. The celery is gross, but… it doesn’t freak me out like chips or pita bread do.”

“Anything else?”

Brett loosely shrugged one shoulder and curled in on himself.

“I’m sorry.” Stephanie’s voice softened. “I know, this is big for you, and it’s really scary. We’ll move a little slower. I’m sorry if I made you feel pushed or rushed. Let’s just go one thing at a time, okay?”

“Okay,” Brett whispered.

They talked for an hour. There were a lot of heavy silences and awkward pauses, but if Stephanie knew anything, it was how to re-frame a problem to make it seem a little easier to deal with. When Brett shook her soft hand before he left, he was a little less shaky. He wasn’t _sure_ , yet. He still didn’t know what he was doing and he was still afraid. But Stephanie had reminded him of some of the coping skills he’d used in the past that could hopefully help until he could get in to see Dr. Stevens, and he had a plan and a timeline, and it was more than he’d had when he walked in an hour ago.

Both Darcey and Justin were still waiting when he went back out into the waiting room. He didn’t know why he’d been afraid they’d be gone, but it was still a relief to see them sitting next to each other, sharing hushed conversation like they’d been friends for years. They were sharing the earbuds of Justin’s iPod while Darcey showed him something on his phone.

But then, crisis had a way of bringing people together. Brett had always hoped Justin and Darcey would get close. He just hadn’t wanted it like this.

“Hey,” he murmured. They both looked up and Justin smiled softly.

“How you feeling?” he asked. Darcey waited quietly for an answer before speaking. They took the buds out of their ears and Justin wound them up and stuck them back in his pocket.

Brett half-smiled and shrugged. “The same, but a little better,” he said. Justin and Darcey both seemed to understand, because Justin smiled again and Darcey nodded.

“That’s good,” Darcey said gently. “What do you want to do, now?”

“I’m really tired,” Brett said. “I kind of want to take a nap.”

“Do you want to rest at my place?” Justin asked. “It’s closer to where you work. I’ll drive you and pick you up if you want.”

Brett shook his head and sat down beside his boyfriend. “I’m not going to work. There’s no way I’ll be able to stay on my feet that long. I’m calling in.”

“Do you want one of us to just take you home, then?” Darcey asked.

Brett looked up at Justin. “I’d rather go home with you.”

* * *

 

Brett didn’t have to work for another three hours, and even though he knew he should call in as soon as possible, the rule was that it had to be, at minimum, two, unless it was an emergency. He didn’t want to have the confrontation with his boss.

So instead, he sat on the couch with his head on Justin’s shoulder while they watched cartoons, because Brett didn’t think he could focus for long enough for anything more serious. The timer for the coffee pot went off in the kitchen and Justin shifted. He kissed the top of Brett’s head and pulled his shoulder away so he could stand. Brett whined softly and Justin said, “Why don’t you call your boss while I get the coffee together, okay?”

“Okay.”

Justin left for the kitchen and Brett stared at his phone on the coffee table for a few long moments. He sighed. He picked it up and made the call.

Cass picked up with the normal greeting, “Thank you for calling Burrito Joint, how can I help you?”

“Cass! Hey, it’s been a while since we worked together. How are you?”

“Good!” Her voice was bright and happy. “How’ve you been?”

“Not as good,” Brett said. He bit his lip. If Cass was going to be there, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

But he still didn’t have the energy for a _one_ hour shift, much less a six hour one. And what was six hours, anyway? At minimum wage? Nothing.

“Brett? You there?”

“I’m not coming in today,” he finally said.

“Oh, that’s too bad. I was really looking forward to seeing you.”

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t be. Are you okay?”

“Just still really sick. I’m having a really painful day.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. But he wasn’t about to tell any of his coworkers about the anorexia. Not even Cass.

“That sucks,” she said gently. “I’ll transfer you to Scott, okay?”

Brett groaned. It _would_ be Scott on shift when he had to call off. But Cass had already put the transfer through, and a few rings later, Scott answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Scott. It’s Brett. Um, I’m really sick and I can’t come in today.”

“ _Again?_ ” Scott’s voice was harsh and angry.

“Well, _still_ , technically. It’s just been a really painful day and there’s no way I’ll be able to make it through the shift.”

“You know what?” Scott said. Brett flinched and his muscles tensed. He didn’t know if he could handle getting chewed out while he was so tired. “That’s it. You’ve been milking this flu thing for over a month and I’m sick of it. You’re done. You’re fired. Don’t bother coming back unless it’s to pick up your last paycheck.”

“I have direct deposit,” Brett mumbled.

Scott hung up. Brett flinched at the sudden silence and put his phone down as Justin came back with two mugs. He placed them down on the table and said, “I’ll be right… are you okay?” he interrupted himself.

Brett closed his eyes. “I just got fired.”

Justin gently placed his hand on the top of Brett’s head and said, “I’ll be right back, and we’ll talk about it, okay?”

Justin clanged around in the kitchen for a few moments and returned with a sugar bowl and a measuring cup half full of soymilk. Brett tensed again and opened his mouth to protest.

“It’s for me,” Justin said. “But you can have some if you want. No pressure. I know you just started treatment and might not be able to handle it yet.”

Brett’s jaw relaxed, but his shoulders stayed tense as Justin sat down beside him. He sprinkled a little bit of sugar in his coffee and poured in a splash of soymilk.

“No pressure,” Justin repeated.

Brett nodded and took a sip of his coffee. Justin’s was always perfect, but even so, coffee was so bitter with no sugar or milk in it. He’d more or less adjusted to it over the past month or so, but he still didn’t actually _like_ it. It just helped to suppress his appetite and was more interesting than water.

His eyes stayed locked on the sugar bowl as Justin watched the TV. With every sip, he considered, _Well, maybe just a pinch_ , but with every swallow he reminded himself, _No, you have to be strong._

But this _wasn’t_ strength. Strength was recovery. Strength was bravery. Strength didn’t lie in denying himself basic things. But it was so _bad_ for him.

He glanced over at Justin’s mug, now resting on his knee, now tipped at his mouth. Justin’s eyes darted over in Brett’s direction and he lowered the mug back to his knee.

“Okay?” he asked.

Brett nodded and looked down at his own mug, in his lap.

“What are you thinking?”

“Can…” Justin hadn’t added _that_ much to his coffee. Just a pinch of sugar and a splash of soymilk. One sip would be okay, right? “Can I try yours?” Brett asked.

Justin smiled. “Sure,” he said. He took Brett’s mug and gave him his. Brett took a sip and his eyes slipped closed as he sighed. It was just sweet enough, still dark but with just enough soymilk to cut the bitterness. It was perfect. He paused and looked into the mug for a few minutes, watching the steam rise up as Justin sat beside him in silence, waiting. Finally, Brett handed the mug back again and asked hesitantly, “Can you make mine like this?”

Justin’s smile widened. “Sure,” he said. He handed the mug back. “Take mine. I’ll keep this one.”

“Thank you, Justin,” Brett whispered. But Justin didn’t hear him over the noise of the cartoons on the TV.

Brett took another hesitant sip, and he smiled.


	31. Chapter 31

Brett was always asleep in the morning when Justin went to work, but awake, though still in bed, when he came home. He’d been staying with Justin for the past week and had only left the house for school once. At least he wasn’t getting worse, but he also wasn’t getting any better, and Justin was worried they’d have to take him back to the hospital if he didn’t show some improvement soon.

Sometimes Darcey would come over while Justin was at work, because despite looking everywhere, Darcey hadn’t been able to find work since he got back home. Today was one of those days, and Darcey was sitting at Justin’s desk, softly talking with his cousin, lying on the bed, when Justin came home, He peeked in the door, just barely cracked, so as not to interrupt anything.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Darcey said.

“Hey. Come in.” Brett smiled and gestured him in. “It _is_ your room, after all.”

Darcey chuckled and Justin smiled, pushing the door open and sitting beside Brett’s feet on the bed. Brett dropped them into Justin’s lap, and Justin wrapped his hands around one of them, gently rubbing over the top of his foot with his fingers.

“We were just talking about Brett’s apartment situation,” Darcey said.

Justin turned toward Brett, eyebrows raised in worry. “What situation?”

“Since I can’t work, I can’t pay my rent,” Brett said. “Let’s be honest here. At this point in time I can probably barely make it up and down the stairs by myself. I’m a mess. I’m probably going to get evicted. I know my dad would let me move back in with him, but he’s too far away from the school.”

“I was saying he could stay with us, in the guest room,” Darcey said. “It’s still farther than where he is now, but not undoable.”

“You could stay with me.” It came out of Justin’s mouth before he had the chance to think about it. Brett tensed, his wiggling toes stilled, and his breath caught.

“What?” he asked.

“I mean, we have the spare room. You could just move in there, if you want. You wouldn’t be costing us any extra so you wouldn’t have to worry about rent until you’re well enough to work again.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah.” Brett let out the breath he’d been holding and relaxed a little. Justin tried to smile reassuringly. Hopefully that wasn’t out of bounds. They’d only been dating a few months, but they’d been friends for so much longer before that. He and Nate had offered him the room before. Unless Brett thought he’d meant move in with _him_ , into _his_ room?

“Well, I’ll know on the fifth whether they’re kicking me out or not, and then I’ll have about a month to move my stuff.”

“Either way, you need to go back and check your mail soon,” Darcey said.

Brett hissed. “Oh, that’s right, your mail is going to my place still. If I can’t get over there soon, I’ll give you my keys so you can check it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“How’s your therapy going?”

The room went silent. Justin looked back and forth between Brett and Darcey. The sudden tension in the room was stifling.

“I made an appointment,” Darcey finally whispered. “Jordan’s going with me.”

“Coffeeshop Jordan?” Justin asked. He sat up a little straighter, taken aback. He knew they’d known each other through Iffy, but --

“They’re dating, now,” Brett said. “Did nobody tell you?”

“I don’t think so,” Justin said. “Or if they did, I don’t remember.”

“You guys have had a lot going on,” Darcey said. “It’s okay.”

“Well, congrats, then.”

Everyone fell silent again and Darcey cleared his throat. Justin squeezed Brett’s foot once more and stood. “I haven’t had lunch yet, so I’m going to go make something. Darcey, you hungry?”

“A bit, yeah.”

He turned to Brett. “Do you want to try some lunch or stick with a safe food?”

Brett turned away slightly and sank his face into the pillow. “Just safe foods,” he mumbled, as if that was something to be ashamed of. But he was eating _something_ , and it was more than he had been, so even though the progress was slow and small, Justin was glad of it.

Justin was a little too tired for a complicated lunch, so he just made pasta with pesto. Boiling water and a blender. What could be easier? While the noodles were going, he made up two small bowls for Brett, one of carrot sticks, one of warmed hummus. He sprinkled a little bit of paprika on it for color and flavor and put a pinch of leftover pine nuts at the edge. He didn’t know if Brett would eat nuts, but if he didn’t want them, he could leave them behind.

He’d just drained the noodles when Brett’s phone rang on the kitchen table. He must have been out here earlier and left it. But that meant he was finally getting out of bed.

Justin wouldn’t have been able to get the phone back to Brett before it went to voicemail, so he picked it up and stuffed it in his shoulder so he could pour the noodles back into the pot to mix with the pesto. “Hello?” he asked.

“Who’s this?” It was a man Justin didn’t recognize. But then, Brett probably knew a lot of people he didn’t, and vice versa. Justin started back to the bedroom as he said,

“Sorry, I’m a friend of Brett’s. His phone was going to go to voicemail so I grabbed it for him. I’ll get him for you.”

“Oh, thanks,” the man said.

Justin knocked on the door to announce his presence and entered the room, holding the phone out to Brett as he approached.

“Your phone rang,” he said. Brett took it and looked at the call ID, but the screen had gone blank. He put it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Brett? Hi, it’s Dad.”

“Hey, Dad.”

Darcey and Justin looked away from their conversation and over to him, and suddenly he felt very, very on the spot.

“Are you okay? Why were you in the hospital?”

Brett’s face blanched. He curled into himself, rolling away from Justin and Darcey to face the wall. “How did you know I was in the hospital?” he whispered.

“I got a letter from the insurance company,” his dad said. “They ran a CT scan? Bloodwork? MRI? What is all this?”

Brett swallowed hard. “I, uh, I fell,” he said. “I’ve been sick for a long time and they weren’t sure what happened and wanted to make sure I didn’t have a concussion. It should all be paid for --”

“No, Brett, don’t worry about that. That’s not why I’m calling. Are you all right? Where are you? Are you at home or your friend’s?”

“I’m at my friend’s.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“Dad, why do you want to talk to him? It’s --”

“Brett, please.”

Brett sighed heavily and rolled back over. He was almost completely under the blanket now, the black fabric pulled up to his nose as he peered out at Justin. “Okay. Here he is.” He shoved the phone out from under the blanket. He arm was tense and trembling.

“My dad wants to talk to you.”

Justin’s eyes widened and he took as step back, as if he’d been physically threatened. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know. He does. Please?”

Justin took the phone like it was a bomb waiting to detonate and gingerly put it to his ear. He didn’t know what he was expecting -- maybe yelling, maybe name-calling, maybe angry blame because why else would a parent want to talk to him? But all he asked was,

“What’s your name? I didn’t get it earlier.”

“Justin.”

“I’m Daniel. Brett’s dad. I hope this isn’t intruding, but do you mind if I come over to your house to see him? I got some paperwork saying he was in the hospital and now he’s saying he’s been sick for a long time. I’d just like to see him for myself and spend a little time with him.”

Justin looked over at Brett, at Darcey, his face tight with confusion. “Uh, sure, I guess,” he said. “I’ll give you my address.”

Brett’s eyes widened and he held out his hands and shook his head. Justin quieted. Darcey rolled desk chair over to the side of the bed and took Brett’s wrists.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “He just wants to see you.”

“Hang on a second, sorry,” Justin said. He put the phone to his chest and said softly, “Do you not want him to come over?”

Brett’s eyes were wide and glassy. “What if he’s disappointed in me?”

“He wasn’t the first time,” Darcey gently reminded him.

“No, but --”

“I’ve got to tell him something,” Justin said. “Do you want me to tell him he can’t come?”

“No, but --”

“Brett, it’s okay,” Darcey murmured.

Justin ducked out of the room to give them some privacy and put the phone back to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Justin.”

“Hey, okay, so, do you have something to write with? I’ll give you directions.”

He kept glancing back at the open bedroom door as he told Daniel how to get there, but he couldn’t hear anything Brett and Darcey were saying. If they were speaking, it was in whispers.

“I live about an hour away, so I’ll be a while,” Daniel said. Justin turned away from the bedroom. “Will he still be there, then?”

“Yeah,” Justin said. “He’ll be here.” He didn’t say Brett had been staying over for the past week. He didn’t know what Daniel knew and what Brett wanted him to know. They’d have to go over it before his dad got here so Justin didn’t accidentally say something out of place.

“Okay. Thank you, Justin.”

“Yeah.”

He hung up. Justin put the phone back on the table and went back into the kitchen to finish lunch.

Brett and Darcey were ducked low into each other, whispering, when Justin returned with the bowls of food. He cleared his throat to announce his presence and they pulled apart.

“I, uh, brought lunch,” he said. He gave Darcey a bowl of pasta and put his own on the desk, then sat down beside Brett with the two tiny bowls of carrot sticks and hummus.

“I brought you something, too,” Justin said. “This was on the list you gave me, so I hope it’s okay. I measured the hummus. It’s one serving size.”

“How many…” Brett trailed off when Justin shook his head.

“We’re not counting calories today, okay? Just eat as much as you can.”

Brett took the bowls and looked down into them, and then hesitantly nodded.

“Oh, your phone,” Justin said. “I’ll be right back.”

He was in the kitchen when he got the text from Darcey.

_Don’t look at him while he eats. It makes him self-conscious._

Justin slid his phone back into his pocket and took Brett’s back into the bedroom with him.

* * *

 

An hour later, Justin and Darcey had each gone through two bowls of food and Brett was about halfway through his hummus and carrot sticks. The doorbell rang. Justin excused himself to answer it.

He was an older man, maybe in his late forties or early fifties, with Brett’s hazel eyes and curly brown hair, but graying at the temples.

“Daniel?” Justin asked. He smiled.

“Justin, I assume?”

Justin took a step back to let him in and offered his hand. They shook. “Brett’s back in my room with Darcey,” he said. “This way.” He led Daniel back to his room and knocked on the door to announce his presence.

“Hey, Brett,” he said. “Your dad’s here.”

Justin stepped to the side toward Darcey so Daniel could enter, and when he did, the energy in the room took a sudden, jagged shift. Daniel’s hand flew to his mouth, and he said, “Justin? Darcey? Could you give us a minute of privacy?” He turned to Justin and said, “I’m sorry to kick you out of a room in your own house, but --“

“Dad, it’s not --”

“Okay,” Justin said. He gestured Darcey toward the door with a nod of his head. “We’ll be in the living room if you need anything, okay?”

Justin closed the door behind them and turned to Darcey as they meandered to the living room. Justin kept glancing back at the bedroom door, and Darcey said, “I think it’ll be okay. They’ve always been really close, even the times they haven’t been able to see each other for a while. But Brett’s lost a lot of weight. I think Daniel could just take one look at him and know what was going on.” He turned to Brett and said, “He didn’t tell me he was struggling, either. I figured it out on my own when I went over to his apartment and saw the mirror was covered.”

“Really?” Brett hated his appearance that badly? He’d had made a point of spending almost all of their time together at Justin’s house, so Justin never saw it.

Not for the first time, Justin berated himself for not seeing the signs sooner. Darcey dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder and said, “It’s nobody’s fault, okay? Shit like this happens and the best we can do is try to help him pick everything back up.”

Justin wrapped an arm around himself and nodded distractedly. He looked back at the bedroom door.

Darcey sat on the couch and Justin picked up the remote control, tossing it over.

“You want some coffee or something?”

“Sure,” Darcey said. “Thanks.” He didn’t turn on the TV, placing the remote on the couch arm beside him instead. Justin started the coffee in silence, unsure of what to say. He knew Darcey wasn’t going to start the conversation. The older man was always so _quiet_.

Once the coffeepot was bubbling away, Justin turned around, leaning against the counter. He looked over at the clock on the microwave.

“Nate should be back in about two hours,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“Okay,” Darcey said.

Justin looked down at his feet, white and grey socks and jean hems bunched up at his heels.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. For dinner or whatever.”

“Thanks.”

They fell quiet again. Justin bit his lip.

“How much does Daniel know? About me and Brett?”

Darcey shook his head. “Last Brett mentioned it, he doesn’t. He wants to come out to my parents first, for backup, just in case.”

“Is he really worried?”

“He’s worried,” Darcey said. “But I don’t think he needs to be.”

“Does he know about you?”

“Me being gay, you mean?”

Justin nodded.

Darcey shook his head. “It hasn’t come up.”

“Even being with Jordan?”

Darcey shrugged. “Even you being with Brett?”

Justin chuckled. “Point taken.”

The coffee maker beeped. Justin turned around to the two mugs he had prepared.

“How do you take it?”

“Black’s fine.”

The two sipped at their coffee in deafening silence. Justin considered turning on the TV just to have some kind of background noise, even if they weren’t going to watch it, but just as he was about to ask Darcey to hand him the remote, the bedroom door opened. Nobody came out. Darcey and Justin shared a glance and stood in tandem. Justin took a few steps past the couch and leaned to the side to try to peer in, but he couldn’t see anyone at his angle.

“Can we come back in?” he called.

“Yeah.” Brett’s voice was muffled and Justin could barely make the word out. He and Darcey shared another look and rushed back to the bedroom. Brett was curled up on the bed with the blanket pulled up tight around his face while Daniel sat beside him with his hand on his son’s head.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Daniel whispered.

And finally, at that moment, Justin really believed it would be.


	32. Chapter 32

**Epilogue**

* * *

 

It was an unseasonably warm December. There was no rain and very little wind. The weather was more like an extension of autumn than a season unto itself.

Brett still wasn’t quite back to a healthy weight, but he was comfortable enough with food now to accept his aunt Jess’s invitation to dinner for the first night of Hanukkah. He still didn’t eat much, but he ate more frequently, and he ate a wider variety. His recovery was slow, but he _was_ recovering.

In all that time, he still hadn’t come out to his dad. He hadn’t brought Justin over to meet anyone in his family. Until tonight.

Justin parked on the street in front of the small, but well-kept, two-story house. He gently took Brett’s hand and said, “Are you ready?”

Brett nodded, even though he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready. What if his dad saw it as just another problem to be fixed? Jess and her husband William wouldn’t, his cousins wouldn’t. Darcey had said that their grandma had been incredibly supportive when he came out and introduced her to Jordan, so he was hopeful about that. He wasn’t sure she would even be here tonight -- Jess often hosted dinner all eight nights, and people who could come each night came, and those who couldn’t came another night. As long as tonight went well, he and Justin would probably be back at least once or twice.

Brett knocked a few times and Lexi, one of his younger cousins, answered. “Hi!” she grinned. “Come in!”

She stepped to the side and Brett entered. Justin followed. Lexi’s eyes followed him into the house and she said, “Who’s this?”

“This is Justin,” Brett said. Justin smiled and offered a small wave. Lexi grinned and waved back. Brett looked around the room. His dad wasn’t here. He dropped his voice and said, “He’s my boyfriend, but I’m not telling anyone until after dinner, just in case, okay?”

Lexi winked and gave him a thumbs up.

Justin followed Brett, who followed Lexi, into the living room. “Bubbe's here,” she said. “She’s in the living room with Ally. She knows about me and Darcey, so you don’t have to worry.”

“What do you mean she knows about _you_ and Darcey?” Brett asked.

“Oh! I guess I haven’t seen you since I started coming out, huh? I’m gay. I have a girlfriend named Jacquelyn and she’s really nice! She couldn’t come tonight because she’s Christmas shopping with her mom, but she might come tomorrow, so you can meet her if you come over again!”

“Maybe,” Brett said. He gave Justin a look that said, _If I can handle being around an eating situation_. Justin gave him a small, encouraging smile. He knew how hard this was for Brett, and was so proud of him for being brave enough to come over for what was basically an evening centered around food.

Bubbe Cam was a small, frail-looking woman, but Brett knew better than to think she was weak. Despite her need for a cane, she was as spry and loud and boisterous as she’d ever been, even at ninety-two years old, and when he and Justin entered the room, she spread her arms wide and cried, “Brett! I’m so happy you could make it! It’s been much too long.”

Brett laughed and leaned down to give her a hug. Her grip was strong and she pulled him down close, pressing a big kiss to his cheek. When he stood again, he gestured Justin closer. “This is Justin,” he said.

Bubbe Cam smiled. “Nice to meet you. And how do you know each other?”

Before Justin could say they’d been friends for a while and his family just didn’t want him over for the holidays, Brett blurted out, “He’s my boyfriend. We’ve been together… seven months? Eight months?”

“Eight,” Justin said softly. His eyes were trained closely on Bubbe Cam, waiting for the fallout, the screaming, the name-calling. But she just smiled and said,

“Do you make each other happy?”

Brett turned to Justin and they smiled at each other.

“Very,” Brett whispered.

“Then that’s all that matters. If anyone else doesn’t like it, fuck ‘em.”

Justin snorted a laugh into his hand and Lexi covered her mouth to hide her smile.

“And that’s my Bubbe,” Brett laughed.

“Honey,” she said, “when you’re my age, most people stop listening to you. Nobody cares if you swear or are inappropriate or talk about sex. And I intend to take full advantage of that.”

Brett laughed again and sat down on the couch beside her. His littlest cousin, Ally, popped her head out from their grandma’s other side. “I’m Ally,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you, Justin.”

Justin grinned. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“Where’s Darcey?” Brett asked.

“In the kitchen with Mom and Dad and Uncle Daniel,” Ally said. “I offered to help but they said the kitchen was too crowded as it was.”

As she spoke, heavy footsteps came through the kitchen door behind them. Justin turned as he sat down to see Darcey entering the living room.

“Hey, Brett, Justin,” he said. “How are you guys?”

“Okay,” Brett said. “Nervous.”

“About your dad?” Lexi asked. Darcey hadn’t told anyone but Jess that he was in recovery, thank God, and it seemed Jess hadn’t spread the news on. Brett smiled and his shoulders relaxed a little.

“Yeah,” he lied.

Darcey plopped down on the couch arm beside Justin and reached behind him to tousle Brett’s hair. Brett pushed his hand away, but he chuckled just the same.

“I think your dad’ll be okay,” he said. “Mom screwed up and asked me if Jordan was going to be able to come at all this next week while he was in the room and I ended up coming out. He was a little skittish, but I think Mom got through.”

“People are different about bisexuality, though,” Brett murmured. “People are weird.”

Bubbe Cam gripped his knee with a small, thin hand and said, “I think he might be a little confused at first, because you dated Annie so long in high school. But I raised both him and Jess to be good, understanding people, and if he takes issue with you, we will have some damn _words_.”

Brett smiled and ran his fingers through his hair.

Half the family down, another half to go.

* * *

 

Brett picked at his small servings, cutting food up and moving it around, but he did eat some of it, and Justin’s knee pressed against his under the table and Darcey nodding encouragingly from his other side helped. His family and Justin sat around the wooden dinner table talking, sometimes about Brett’s school, sometimes about Darcey’s job at the cat shelter, sometimes about Ally and Lexi’s friends. Jess and William frequently brought up Jordan, and Darcey said that while he couldn’t come over this week because he’d just gotten out of a pretty heavy surgery, he did send a box of cookies with the promise that once he was well he’d come over himself with a real home-baked dessert. There was no vegan option for after dinner fare, but Brett was grateful, even though it was selfish. If Justin didn’t eat dessert, it wouldn’t be weird if he didn’t, either.

It was over the dessert neither of them ate that Daniel asked, “So, Justin, I know you and Brett know each other from school?”

“Sort of,” Justin said. “We met at a concert and then found out we go to the same school. We’ve been friends about two years.”

“And dating for about eight months,” Brett said. The room went silent. Daniel frowned. Jess’s eyes darted from him to Brett, and she said, “Ally, Lexi, why don’t you take your dessert into the living room and watch some TV?”

Ally’s brows furrowed. “But I thought we weren’t allowed to --”

“Just this once,” Jess said. The sisters looked at each other, then grabbed their plates and forks and tiptoed out of the room.

Daniel still wasn’t saying anything. Brett bit his lip. Justin wasn’t sure whether to move closer or away. On Brett’s other side, Darcey moved a little closer.

“You’re gay?” Daniel finally said softly.

“Bi,” Darcey corrected, a little too harshly.

“Darcey,” Brett whispered.

“Sorry.”

“What?” Daniel asked.

“No, I’m not gay. I dated Annie for three years in high school, remember? I’m bisexual.”

“So… you were dating when I came to his house?” Daniel asked.

“Daniel.” Jess’s voice was warning, stern.

He turned to her. “I just --”

“Yes,” Brett said. “We were.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then? Or… or _any_ time sooner.”

Brett wrung his hands. Justin gently gripped his knee. Their knuckles bumped. He looked down. “I was scared,” he admitted.

“Why?”

“Because… because… I don’t know, because I already have so many problems and I was afraid you’d think this was just another thing that needed to be fixed or --”

“Brett,” Daniel interrupted gently. “Breathe.” The table fell silent again. Jess was still watching Daniel closely, waiting to see if she’d need to intervene.

“I don’t really know anything about bisexuality,” Daniel said. “If I’ve ever known anyone other than you, I didn’t know about it. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re my son, and I love you, and you’ve gone through so much even though you’re still so young. I’m glad you’ve found someone who can make you happy and support you when things get rough.” He turned to Justin and said, “You _do_ , right?”

Justin nodded. He wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand and Brett gently placed his hand on top of Justin’s. “You okay?” he whispered. Justin nodded again, but didn’t speak.

“Justin?” Jess asked.

“I just wish my family had been as wonderful as yours,” he said.

“Well,” Daniel said, “our family’s a little bit weird. But it can be yours, too, if you want.”

Justin laughed wetly and grinned. “I like weird,” he said. Brett bumped the side of his head against Justin’s temple and Justin wiped at his nose with his thumb.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

 

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see by the big bold letters above, you've reached the end of Push Me, Pull Me. I know it was long, but thank you to everyone who stuck with it the whole time. Next Thursday I'm going to start posting Two Heartbeats on One Page, which is about Darcey and Jordan!
> 
> Thank you for the comments and kudos you've all left along the way, it really means so much. :)


End file.
